


Butterfly Effect

by NewDCD



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewDCD/pseuds/NewDCD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buttefly Effect - A part of chaos theory that postulates that a small change can lead to heavy repercussions down the line. For example, something as small as a butterfly flapping its wings could cause a storm in some other place later on. Quiet flaps her wings, and the world changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Divergence Point

Disclaimer - Metal Gear and all associated content belong to Konami. This is a fan work; no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Butterfly Effect - The idea, used in chaos theory, in which a very small difference in the initial state of a physical system can make a significant difference to the state at some later time, so called from the notion that the fluttering of a butterfly's wings may set off currents that will grow into a large storm.

* * *

_For want of a nail, the shoe was lost;_

_For want of a shoe, the horse was lost;_

_For want of a horse, the rider was lost;_

_For want of a rider, the message was lost;_

_For want of the message, the battle was lost;_

_For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost,_

_And all for want of a nail._

* * *

It was during their first moment of truly carefree happiness that Quiet felt, even if just for a moment, that she was not in control of herself.

While the parasites that permeated her skin and kept her alive would give her urges and try to dictate her behavior, she was always fully aware and in control of her actions. Being in direct symbiosis with "the Ones that Cover" for survival meant that she was less susceptible to blindly following their suggestion, ironically enough.

Imagine her surprise when the first true challenge to her willpower in a long time came not from the parasites, but from being held by Big Boss under the rain after she had nearly crashed into him during their little game. As the clouds parted and rays of sunlight filtered through, she stared into his eye for a fleeting moment that felt like an eternity of bliss.

She had never experienced such a strong impulse in her life before, as the desire to close her eyes and lean forward to meet his lips overwhelmed her.

The flapping of birds overhead broke her from her thoughtless reverie, and with that, she came back to her senses.

Their gazes wandered at the clearing sky above until they met once more, and then she softly broke away from his warm grip. Picking up her boots, she vanished from his sight, effectively turning herself invisible. She rounded a corner, pressed her back against a metal wall, and let herself slide down it until she was sitting on the floor.

What was wrong with her? She was thinking and acting like a lovesick schoolgirl, not a highly-skilled soldier! Or, at least, how she'd expect a lovesick schoolgirl to think and act; she had no firsthand experience on such matters herself. She had been fighting since she could remember, so she had never really stopped to think about what romantic entanglements entail.

Revolver Ocelot's words echoed in her head.

"She's in love with the legend."

At that moment, she had felt like her whole world had been laid bare. She might not wear much in terms of clothing (due to her unique circumstances), but she had never felt so naked or vulnerable before. Her whole body felt like it was at the verge of melting, and she was sure it had nothing to do with the salt water she had been doused with just moments earlier.

Even if she could speak, she wouldn't have tried to refute those words. She had started to realize the nature of her attraction when she leaned in to look outside a window in the helicopter and accidentally gave him a good view of her "assets". His stoic demeanor would be unquestioned by ordinary people, but Quiet was far from ordinary these days. She noticed the nearly-imperceptible flush on his cheeks that would've fooled anyone else as he stared forward vacantly, acting as if he were deep in thought. Since then, she gave him plenty to look at as they traveled aboard the Aerial Command Center. She enjoyed feeling his eye on her, being the sole object of his focus even if he pretended she was not…

Maybe she had lost control far earlier that she'd realized.

Yet, despite how troubling that was under the current circumstances, she felt so, SO good…

These emotions, completely foreign to her until now, were a sweet and delirious torment she wanted more of. So much more.

Thinking like a lovesick schoolgirl was so very pleasant…

"Child, are you well?" the voice of Code Talker, the old parasitologist, brought her back to reality as he vocalized the question in their native tongue – Navajo. He worked the pushrim of his wheelchair, moving closer to where Quiet was sitting.

All she did for a few seconds was nod dumbly. "I'm fine. I'm fine," she replied in the same language. "I was just thinking, Elder."

"About the Snake?" The corners of Code Talker's mouth curled upwards. "I shouldn't even be asking something so obvious, should I? After all, anybody could see why you would be troubled, after the events that just transpired."

"Y-you were watching?" Quiet's head jerked upwards towards the old man, her cheeks tinting a deep crimson as the pigmentation around her eyes changed to resemble an ink blot in the shape of a butterfly.

"It was not my intention. I was simply nearby at the moment it happened. But it is a good thing, young one, that there are other things in your life outside of fighting and seeking revenge."

Quiet cast her vision towards the floor. She had explained the whole situation to Code Talker the day she had been tortured, and how a part of her still wanted revenge, so at that moment, she had refused his offer to take the treatment that would rid her of the vocal cord parasites within her. So she vowed to never speak the English language again – that way, she would not endanger Snake while she could stay here in Mother Base, most likely to the chagrin of the majority of the staff.

But that little moment under the rain had actually come close to endangering him, even if what her whole being was screaming at her to do was to show affection.

Kazuhira Miller's words now resonated with her. "His life isn't yours to take."

She didn't want to take Big Boss' life – if anything, she'd want to offer her life to him.

So what was more important to her: revenge, or being with Snake?

Why was she so driven to taking revenge, anyways? She had tried to assassinate the legendary soldier, and got set on fire and fell down several stories for her trouble. Her internal organs were ruined, yet here she was, still alive. Ironically enough, it was her failure to kill Big Boss (twice!) that's given her the opportunity to actually meet the man behind the myth and develop feelings for him.

Shouldn't she be glad that, for once in her military career, she had failed a mission objective? It was a strange way of thinking, but if it wasn't for that failure, she'd still be an XOF assassin, performing wet-work as ordered of her like a machine with no other purpose but to follow orders. Here in Mother Base, despite the friction she had with the great majority of the staff, it was different.

She had lived her life up to that point as if she were dead.

Ironic that it took for her to have one foot in the grave for the events that would make her feel alive to transpire.

Not only that, but recently, she had dreams in which she had to speak in order to save Snake's life, and then leave him forever, to die alone, without ever being able to express her feelings to him face to face. Every time she'd wake up from those dreams, her eyes would be wet with tears.

What if a situation like that came to pass? Could she bear to have to leave him?

At that moment, Quiet realized that her desire for revenge wasn't all that important, and that she valued other things far more.

"Elder…about the Wolbachia treatment…"

* * *

About a week had passed since Quiet had subjected herself to the treatment to sterilize her vocal cord parasites. While the process would take much less time in a normal person, she was a different matter altogether.

"We must first isolate samples from 'the ones that cover' that live on your skin, as the Wolbachia will also affect them," Code Talker had said. "The parasites on your skin will eventually die off if males are not present to continue reproduction, greatly shortening your lifespan. To prevent this, I'll return the male samples to the community of parasites that live on your skin once we have confirmed that the English strain in you no longer presents a threat."

That she was undergoing treatment was currently a secret only she and the elder man knew about at the moment, so that meant that her role as Venom Snake's field support remained unchanged. She wouldn't have it any other way; she knew the Boss could handle himself just fine when going solo, but she'd much prefer to be out on the field with him than cooped up in Mother Base.

(Plus, she could always get a good look at him in action through the scope of her rifle. She enjoyed that a lot)

As the Pequod took them to the area of operations for their next mission, she could hear Snake's breathing through the deafening noise of the helicopter's rotor blades, which had taken a peculiar, regular rhythm. Turning her head to face him, she came to meet his sleeping countenance. This was the first time she had seen him drift off while they were in flight; he must've been extremely tired.

A mischievous idea sprung forward in her mind, as she slowly and silently approached the sleeping figure. His prosthetic hand lay relaxed on top of his lap as he quietly slept. Taking a seat on the floor next to him, she placed her right hand on top of his own mechanized one.

She blushed as she realized what she just did. This was her first time holding someone's hand in this way, and even if it was made of metal, her heart began to beat faster.

A little yelp escaped her as she noticed the pilot, Swooping Hawk, had turned his head back to look at what she was doing. She became ever redder as the pilot of the Pequod studied the situation. If she could still sweat, she'd be doing it right now.

The pilot of the Pequod (referred to simply as "Pequod" himself by his comrades in honor of the aircraft he commandeered), flashed her a grin and a thumbs up. "Nice goin', Quiet," he whispered as he turned back to mind the controls and the sky ahead.

Quiet let out a sigh of relief at this. Maybe she could enjoy holding onto his hand for a little while longer…

* * *

"It's your fault! They're dead because of you!"

If Quiet had something, anything she could toss at Emmerich right now, she would be doing so.

How dare he?! Snake was already in enough anguish, already!

"What?" Miller answered angrily at the accusation.

"He's right," interrupted Snake. "I killed them, with my own hands." Despite the stoicism in his voice, Quiet could feel the sorrow behind those words.

"They were on your side! I'm on your side! And you turned them all to ashes," mouthed Emmerich, making Quiet want nothing more than to stop holding her invisibility camouflage and put the hurt on that man. Must he turn everything about himself?

Thankfully, Ocelot patted that man's shoulder and made him back off, so there was no reason for her to stop being invisible. She wanted to be here for this, after all, but she knew full well she was not exactly welcome in the eyes of most of the Diamond Dogs. She didn't want to interfere in their mourning.

The ceremony continued. Rather than giving his men a burial at sea, Snake caked his face in their ashes. "We'll make diamonds from their ashes," he told Miller once the latter asked what they would do instead. "Take them to battle with us."

It was no wonder why so many would put their differences aside in order to work under this man. Why she was smitten with him despite her never holding these feelings for anybody before was no mystery, either.

"We are Diamond Dogs."

She hoped that included her, too…

Hours later, the crowd dispersed, everyone returning to their posts. Snake and Miller exchanged words she could not make out, and afterwards, he was alone on the helipad, staring at the night sky ahead, as if lost within a world of his own creation.

She just stood in place, taking in the coolness of the sea breeze. She wanted to reach out to him, do something, anything, for him.

"Quiet." His voice startled her. He knew she was there?

"Thank you," he softly muttered. "For being here."

No longer being able to resist, she ran towards him while making herself visible. Her arms wrapped around his midsection from behind, and she pressed her head against his shoulder. He was warm… but she could feel his heart beat slowly, filled with sorrow.

They stayed like that for a good long while. Under different circumstances, she would have savored the moment, but for now, all she could do is hope the words she cannot speak reach him like this.

"Sorry I didn't say anything while Kaz tortured you. I was afraid that if I said anything, he'd try something more drastic next time." She gripped him harder as he said this. So that was it…she closed her eyes and focused on the rhythm of his heart.

After some time, Snake turned around, breaking her hold on him. "I'll see you later." A bittersweet smile adorned his lips as he spoke those words.

Quiet hoped that he understood what she wanted so desperately to say.

You are not alone.

* * *

"Are you certain about this?" Code Talker asked as she paged through her medical report.

"Yes," Quiet replied in Navajo. "Please deliver that message for me. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

After a month in treatment, the English strain within her was finally gone. She was no longer a transmission vector. With this, she turned her back on her desire for revenge. With this, she hoped, she could become a Diamond Dog just like everyone else in this offshore facility.

No, not just like any other Diamond Dog. She wanted something else, too.

"Did you manage to do that other favor I asked of you, Elder?" she asked, still in Navajo.

"Yes," replied Code Talker as he placed a green box the size of a textbook forward. "Although I cannot understand why you would need these. The young men of the Research and Development team were surprised at such a request."

"I have something in mind," Quiet replied in her native tongue as she took the box under her arm. "Elder…thank you so much. For everything you've done."

The old man smiled warmly. "It was not a problem. Just live for yourself, young one, and do not be chained by the past anymore."

Quiet nodded, vanished, and headed back towards her cell. As she walked back, she noticed Pequod high up in the air. Did that mean that he had dropped Snake on the Medical Platform? Using her abilities to quickly jump atop a nearby crane, she saw as he entered an area still under construction not far from her cell. She then proceeded to scan the deck, and was pleasantly surprised that there was nobody outdoors at the moment. Perfect.

She opened the box Code Talker had given her, and pulled out a pair of pistols from inside. Making her way towards the door Snake had stepped into, she picked a nearby corner and flattened herself against the wall, holding one of the weapons in her hands and leaving the other one lay on the floor. After a few minutes, Snake stepped out the door. Peeking out of cover, Quiet took aim and pulled the trigger.

A tiny jet of cold water hit Snake on the cheek. "Wha-?!" He exclaimed, startled at the sudden attack. Quiet giggled as Snake wiped the water off his face. Maybe a little "revenge" here and there wouldn't be so bad, if it's like this.

"Quiet…? What was that all about?" Snake flashed a tiny smile at her. She bent over to pick the water pistol she had left on the floor (and made sure to take just long enough to give him a nice view like she often does in the helicopter) and presented it to him.

"Oh…so that's what you want. Alright. I'll play along."

Accepting the water pistol Quiet was holding out for him, Snake nodded. "On the count of ten."

The rest of that afternoon flew by as the two engaged in a mock battle with water pistols. Despite Quiet's superhuman abilities, Big Boss was still a legendary soldier and was more than able to keep up with her. The first deck of the Medical Platform was their battleground, floors and walls slippery with the water of missed shots.

"Damn, need a reload," Snake growled under his breath. There should be a faucet just around the corner…

But he stopped in his tracks as he felt an object poke his back, accompanied by soft humming. He raised his hands and let out a soft chuckle. "I guess you win this one," he said as he turned around to face her. Granted, he could use CQC and turn the tables, but that'd be overkill for a lighthearted game like this.

Quiet kept aiming the water pistol as a sly expression adorned her countenance. Taking a step towards Snake, and then another, and yet another, she got closer and closer to her quarry, never breaking eye contact. She wrapped her free arm around his neck, bringing their bodies closer, the toy pistol pressing against his belly.

His warmth was intoxicating.

"Eh?" Snake froze in place, waiting for her next movement.

Quiet simply inched closer towards his lips, closing her eyes partway.

"Quiet, wait, the parasites in you…"

She tossed the toy pistol aside, and brought her now-free right hand to his face, cupping his cheek. Pulling back her face a little, she stared into his eye, shook her head, and gave him a gentle smile. Next, she pressed her forehead against his, careful not to disturb his horn, and closed her eyes, hoping he understood the gesture.

"All right…" Snake murmured. She could feel his breath getting closer. "I trust you…"

Hearing him speak those words from him sent a jolt of pleasure through her whole system.

When their lips connected, the feeling was compounded, and the world around her became a hazy dream.

She let out a soft moan within his mouth, and shivered as his strong arms snaked their way around her body, the coolness of his metallic prosthetic against her lower back causing her to shiver slightly.

Snake broke the lip-lock and stared into her eyes as she fluttered them open. Despite breathing through her skin, she could only describe herself at the moment as being "absolutely breathless". Snake's real hand parted with her body and his thumb rubbed gently at the corners of her eyes. "What's with these?" he asked.

She hadn't noticed during the exhilaration of their passionate moment that her eyes had welled up with tears. Smiling sheepishly, she nestled against his chest.

"We should probably go somewhere else," Snake admitted as he caressed the back of her head.

They broke the hug, and Quiet grasped his hand, the flesh-and-blood one this time, while vanishing away. Even if she was invisible, Snake could feel her fingers interlocked with his.

The next thing Snake felt was a peck on his cheek.

"Heh, aren't you getting touchy-feely? All right, let's go somewhere more private."

Quiet couldn't help but think that from then on, life was going to be great.

* * *

Butterfly Effect ///// Chapter 1 [Divergence Point]

* * *

 


	2. Chain Reaction

Disclaimer - Metal Gear and all associated content belong to Konami. This is a fan work; no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"…Boss! Boss!"

Venom Snake groggily awoke as the knocking on the door to his private quarters in the Command Platform ramped up in intensity. What the hell was all that ruckus? No matter, he wanted to go back to sleep… he hadn't slept so placidly in a long time.

The softness lying atop his chest stirred, and Quiet's eyes fluttered open. She blinked questioningly, as confused as Venom was on what interrupted their slumber.

"Boss, I'm coming in!" boomed the voice of Revolver Ocelot from the other side of the door, and Snake recognized soft clicks coming from the lock to his room.

"WAIT!" yelled Snake. "Wait. I…err…just woke up. Hold on. I'll open the door for you." He looked down at Quiet, who was ostensibly fully awake by now, and wordlessly mouthed at her. "Invisible. Now."

She gave him a nervous grin and vanished from sight. He adjusted his shirt as he walked to the door, released the lock, and swung the door inwards, meeting face to face with the Ocelot himself. "What is it?" Snake questioned his trusted officer.

Ocelot crossed his arms and tapped his foot, raising an eyebrow at Snake, yet grinning at the same time. "Boss, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Not really."

"Half past noon, Boss."

Realization dawned upon Snake. Since he was usually up at the very early morning, his oversleeping probably alarmed the men, and Ocelot decided to check out if anything was wrong. "Oh. Uh. Sorry. Was just tired."

"Long night?" Ocelot grinned, as if trying to hold laughter back.

"Uhh…not…particularly?" For a moment, Snake could have sworn Ocelot's grin grew wider.

Shaking his head, Ocelot put a hand on Snake's shoulder. "Boss…I can tell you're not alone in here. No use in hiding it."

"What? Of course I'm alone. What'd make you say otherwise?" Snake responded nervously under Ocelot's inquisitive stare.

"Well, for starters, I'm pretty sure a mattress isn't supposed to warp like that when there's nobody on top of it," Ocelot stated guilelessly. Following his line of sight, Snake looked back at his bed, and true enough, there was a depression near the middle, as if someone was sitting on it (probably because there WAS someone sitting on it). Ocelot peeked over Snake's shoulder and raised a hand in greeting. "Hello, Quiet."

She came into view, sitting cross-legged on Snake's bed, and sheepishly waved at Ocelot, her face redder than any of the two men had ever seen it. Ocelot chuckled and brought his hands to his hips. "Can't say I didn't see it coming, just didn't expect it to be now. Her vocal cord parasites are no longer a danger, are they?"

Snake raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"Not the supervisor of your Intel Team for nothing, Boss. I noticed Quiet wasn't present on her cell at certain times, and that those times coincided with someone entering and exiting Code Talker's private laboratory. Didn't take a genius to start seeing a pattern there."

"Code Talker. Figured as much. If someone was capable of taking care of those parasites, it had to be him," Snake answered, his suspicions being all but confirmed.

Ocelot cocked his head to the side ever-so slightly. "Wait, so then, how did you know her parasites no longer presented a threat?" He rubbed his chin between two fingers. "Did Quiet tell you?"

"Not exactly...she's still not speaking," Snake admitted, shifting his gaze away from Ocelot.

"What?! Boss…you spent a whole night of passionate lovemaking with your little girlfriend here, and you weren't even positive she no longer had the parasites?!" Ocelot exclaimed, shocked at Venom Snake's recklessness. Behind them, Quiet's whole body posture became rigid and the butterfly-shaped blotches around her eyes materialized as her blush became an even deeper red. Snake's own face flushed with color as well at Ocelot's accusation.

"W-we haven't gotten that far yet! Besides, she might not have said to me in words, but she still let me know. I'm pretty good at understanding her, I'll have you know."

Ocelot let out a short sigh before playfully tapping Snake's shoulder with his closed fist. "If you say so, Boss," he replied with a grin. "You know, EVA sure had you figured out. I can see that now."

"EVA? What does she have to do with anything?" inquired Snake. Quiet perked up as she heard that name, unknown to her. An ex-girlfriend, perhaps?

"Oh, nothing..." Ocelot's expression suddenly became grim. "You know...you'll have to let Miller know about your little… escapades… with Quiet. He's going to find out eventually, and when he does, it's best he hears it straight from the horse's mouth. You know how 'fond' he is of her."

Snake sighed pensively. "I know. I need more time to think of a way to break it to him, though. I'm really not looking forward to that."

"Well, I have to get back to him now. Going to tell him you're taking a sabbatical, for once."

"Yeah, tell him I've been feeling a bit under the weather after the last mission, so I'm going to take it easy today," Snake added.

Ocelot turned to face the doorway. "You got it, Boss," he answered, taking a couple of steps forward before stopping and looking back at his commanding officer. "Oh, Snake, one more thing."

"What is it?"

"If you're going to step outside today, make sure to wear one of your scarves. Otherwise the men will get a good look of those hickeys all over your neck."

Oh.

So that's how he immediately knew Snake wasn't alone in the room.

"…Thanks," Snake answered sheepishly.

Ocelot closed the door behind him, and Snake turned the latch to lock it. He mumbled under his breath about getting a bolt installed when he felt something soft press against his back, accompanied by a pleasant, mildly sweet aroma. Arms wrapped around his neck as Quiet's weight clung to him. She placed a quick peck on his cheek from behind before burrowing her head into his shoulder.

Snake turned his head towards the woman and returned the favor with a kiss of his own, placing his lips gently on her temple. "You know, I should take time off more often. I could get used to this."

Quiet simply nodded absentmindedly before huddling closer to Snake, humming all the while.

* * *

It wasn't long before Snake and Quiet realized they needed to step out of his room and seek sustenance, especially since the sniper needed some sun while daylight hours still remained. She exited the room first, invisible to the naked eye and silently made her way out of the building, while Snake donned his olive drab fatigues and threw on a scarf, as suggested by Ocelot earlier. Figuring he should stop over by the Mess Hall and pick a bite to eat himself, he headed in that direction, and eventually stepped into the eatery, which was mostly empty by now. The few occupants that remained here and there saluted when they got notice of their commander's presence, and with a swift flick of the arm, Snake gestured to them to be at ease.

He headed for the vacant tray line and was greeted by a face all too familiar to the Diamond Dogs that appreciated a good meal: Silent Basilisk, mute ex-Mujahideen, friendly old man, and damn fine cook. The afghan's expression lit up as Snake got closer, and he waved at the leader of the Diamond Dogs.

"Hey, Basilisk," Snake responded to the man's salutations. "Got anything I can eat on the go? I want to meet up with someone."

Basilisk grinned before crouching down beneath the counter and procuring a plastic container. The lid had "for the Boss" written in black marker on it, and the recruit happily presented it to the man in question. Venom Snake lifted the cover and inspected the contents, as his lips curled upwards in delight.

"Right. Today's Taco Tuesday… Nice," Snake said, as Silent Basilisk gave him a thumbs-up followed by a salute. Snake returned the salute before speaking once more: "Thanks for saving these for me, Basilisk. I'm glad you're enjoying your post."

With food now in hand, Snake started to seek out his true objective: Code Talker. He wandered around the Command Platform aimlessly for a few minutes, eating as he walked, until he found a soldier who told him he had seen Code Talker on the 3rd deck. Snake made his way there, and sitting in his wheelchair was the elderly researcher, sitting down and gazing out at sea.

"Big Boss," Code Talker spoke as Snake walked towards him, fully aware of his presence.

"Thank you," Snake blurted out immediately. "For helping Quiet."

"I was expecting that to be your motivation for seeking me out," Code Talker started. "It was no problem. I am glad I could help her."

"Was it the Wolbachia?" Snake inquired. If that was the case, then why...

As if reading his thoughts, Code Talker responded. "Yes, and she asked me to say something to you in her behalf."

"You spoke with her?"

"Yes. She can speak the Navajo language, the only language which the parasites cannot target. That's how she and I communicated during the treatment."

"Hm. Let's hear what you have to say, Code Talker."

"It is quite simple, really. She just wanted you to know that despite being able to speak now, she would abstain herself from doing so," Code Talker delivered.

"What? Why?" Snake was perplexed. What reason could she have to remain silent now that she was free of the constraints of the parasites?

"She did not say," the elderly man replied, "but I do have a theory."

"Let's hear it."

"It is quite simple," Code Talker started. "When she came to this place, she was 'Quiet', the wordless sniper. Here, she started anew from her previous life, whatever that was. If she were to speak again…"

"…Her past might catch up with her?" Snake finished.

"…or she might think she could lose what she has here now. I cannot presume to know what she is thinking. That, however, is the most reasonable deduction I can offer you," the wise elder closed his eyes pensively.

"You mentioned Navajo," Snake began while rubbing his chin with his prosthetic hand. "What if I learned to speak the language?"

"Even if you managed to master the language, she also made it clear she would no longer be speaking in Navajo, either."

"So much for that, then… I guess I'll have to let her know you delivered the message, then. Thanks again, Code Talker," Snake gazed into the container he was still carrying. "Say…want a taco?"

Code Talker shook his head. "Thank you, but I just ate."

"How come?"

The elderly man chuckled as he began to work the hand rim of his wheelchair, rolling away slowly. "Remember what I told you before: eyes on Kazuhira."

As Code Talker wheeled away, Snake could only wonder what he meant by that.

* * *

Quiet hadn't been to the Mess Hall before, thanks in no small part thanks to her unique physiology, but she had decided to roam the hallways within the Command Platform's buildings while invisible and stumbled upon it by chance. She was simply killing time; since she was going to spend the night within Snake's room tonight as well, there was no real reason for her to go back to her cell in the Medical Platform.

The hustle and bustle of the dinner rush was palpable in the air, and Quiet was careful not to bump into anybody while she surveyed her surroundings. Soon, however, something caught her eye – a refrigerator with a transparent door, and housed within it, an array of appetizing desserts.

Quiet's mouth watered while pangs of nostalgia hit her like a truck. Once upon another life, she had a notorious sweet tooth – the one carefree indulgence she partook in between missions for XOF.

However, that was not her any more. She was no longer an XOF assassin (and all the happier for it), and she no longer could enjoy scrumptious desserts (admittedly, the one aspect of her new life she would gladly change). Scanning the contents on the racks, she saw flan, chocolate cake, and…ohh, strawberry cheesecake! Her favorite! Or at least, what used to be her favorite.

The Diamond Dogs sure were treated nicely, at least when food was concerned…it made Quiet all the more wistful.

Machinations began to take life within Quiet's mind as she eyeballed the slice of strawberry cheesecake within its transparent plastic container. Smiling to herself, and cautious not to let a giggle escape her as she did, she opened the door and took hold of the confection, feeling the intense cold against her arm. As dinnertime had just recently begun, nobody minded the desserts, leaving her prized target ripe for the taking.

All that she had to do now was exit the Mess Hall without anybody noticing any mysterious floating pastries, and that she did, moving in ways that would make Snake proud. She had already been good at stealth infiltration, but watching Big Boss work as she provided support had taught her a thing or two, sharpening her skills even further.

She stole a plastic spoon from the utensils rack on her way out and made her way back to Snake's room.

* * *

It wasn't long after Quiet's return that Snake arrived back at his quarters. Once the door swung open, Snake was greeted with the rare sight of his sniper grinning ear to ear, cheerfully bouncing on the balls of her feet with her arms crossed behind her back.

"You look happy," Snake acknowledged dumbly.

Quiet softly giggled and brought her arms in front of her. On her hands, she held a plastic container holding what Snake could identify as a cake of some kind. She popped the lid open to the side, and gestured at him towards the bed with her thumb.

"You want me to take a seat?" she nodded slightly. Snake saw no reason not to comply and did as she asked, and Quiet joined him seconds later, sitting close enough for their thighs to press against one another.

Quiet held a spoonful of cheesecake near Snake's mouth and opened her own in mimicry.

"So…you want to feed it to me or something, huh? Well, why not." His lips parted and he received the spoonful.

"…That's good. I'd never had some of these."

The first serving became a second, followed by a third, accompanied by a fourth…before long, the dessert was no more. Snake had never been one for sweets, but he had to admit: that was pretty good. Smiling at her, he spoke up to express his gratitude. "That was great. I'll have to have some more sometime. Thanks, Qui-"

He didn't notice the predatory glance in Quiet's eyes in time, and before he could even make out what was going on, she had already pounced on top of him, locking her lips onto his with unparalleled intensity. Her tongue snaked her way into his mouth, exploring every nook and cranny as her hands caressed his cheeks.

As Quiet indulged in the taste, the legendary mercenary was absolutely defenseless against the onslaught. She had thoroughly disarmed him with that surprise attack, and he neither had the will nor the way to counter. His right hand, lying slack a couple of inches above his head, was wrapped around by her left, which she moved over from his face as the affectionate assault persisted unrelenting.

All good things must come to an end, however, and Quiet broke the kiss, albeit reluctantly. After all, unlike her, Snake couldn't breathe while they were connected like that. She licked her lips, enjoying the lingering flavor of strawberry, and snickered at how flustered Snake's skin became.

"Had that not been so amazing," Snake mouthed off in a daze, "I would actually be mad right about now."

She grinned and pressed her head to his chest, closing her eyes and focusing on his heartbeat. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. It was beating quite fast. As inexperienced as she was with relationships, maybe Snake was even less savvy than her, if that was at all possible.

They remained like that for a while, enjoying the silence and each other's company. Quiet hummed gently as Snake hand rested against the back of her head. Naturally, when the time to break the silence came, it was Snake who did so:

"You know, Code Talker delivered your message earlier."

Quiet turned her head upright, and gazed attentively at his features, a mix of worry and guilt reflected in her eyes.

"…I understand you've got your reasons. I hope to hear you speak sometime, though. I'm looking forward to it."

Any anguish in Quiet's orbs vanished, and instead a faint flush washed over her cheeks. She gave him a gentle smile, slid off his chest, opened a nearby drawer and rummaged through its contents. Snake followed her movement with his eye, curious as to what she was planning. She had seen it around here earlier…aha! Producing a yellow notepad from within alongside a pencil, she quickly scribbled on it, and presented it to Snake.

" _You'll be the first to hear it. But I'm not ready yet,"_ it read. Snake took a moment to study the writing, dumbstruck. Regaining his composure a moment later, he exhaled and gave her a smile.

"So writing's okay now, huh?"

Once again, the pencil held in her hand danced across the page, and another note followed suit.

" _Just for you, though!"_

Snake chuckled. "I feel special."

Jotting down one last note, Quiet ripped out the page and softly slapped it against his chest before driving Snake into yet another deep kiss. The note read two simple words:

" _You are."_

* * *

Butterfly Effect ///// Chapter 2 [Chain Reaction]

* * *

Kazuhira Miller strode gingerly into the deserted Mess Hall, or at least as gingerly as a man on a crutch and with a prosthetic leg could, late that night. Today had certainly been eventful: it wasn't every day that Big Boss sleeps in, gives them a good scare, and ends up taking a day off. The management of Mother Base operations was everyday stuff, but he had finally managed to present Code Talker with a burger the old-timer fully enjoyed. His Chem-Burger was going to be revolutionary; usher forth a brand new era of foodstuff.

It was time to give himself a pat on the back for a job well done. He had been saving just the thing. He had instructed the soldiers not to touch his delicatessen, which he had been saving for an occasion such as this.

The goofy smile which was so rare on Kaz's face these days fell flat as he reached the desserts refrigerator and his objective was nowhere to be found.

Gnashing his teeth in anger, he let out a howl that could wake the dead.

" **WHO THE HELL TOOK MY CHEESECAKE?!"**


	3. Causal Correction

 

          As Ocelot roamed the narrow hallways of Mother Base, the uneasy feeling of being followed crept up his neck. Time and again, he’d peer over his shoulder and see nothing, which only added to his suspicion.  There were only two people in the base who could follow him around for so long and stay completely out of sight, and one of them wouldn’t have any reason for such a stealthy approach.

 

           So, if Quiet was following him around, she was probably waiting for him to stop at a more secluded location. Ocelot decided to put his deduction to the test, rounded the corner and entered a place he was very intimate with: Room 101. Leaving the heavy metallic door open as he came in, he smirked as it bolted shut behind him.

 

           “Quiet,” Ocelot greeted as he turned around. “Wanted to see me?”

 

           The sniper nodded slowly at him while considering her options. She had followed the Intel specialist around in hopes of asking him a question, but hadn’t stopped to exactly consider how she would do it – she was certainly not going to pass him a note (that was a privilege she withheld exclusively for Snake), and body language would only take her so far. Taking a moment to internalize her surroundings, Quiet realized that perhaps, it would not be so difficult. The location Ocelot had chosen was, to her luck, the most convenient possible.

 

           Her eyes wandered and she spotted a familiar folding steel chair reclining against a metallic wall. Grabbing the piece of furniture, she folded it open and placed it on the same spot it was when she was “interrogated”. She took a seat and put her arms behind the backrest, mimicking her posture back then, and held her wrists close together as if held by handcuffs.

           

           Hopefully Revolver Ocelot was good with charades.

 

           Meanwhile, Ocelot curiously eyed Quiet’s actions, tapping his index finger to his chin as he did so.  “The night you were brought here for questioning…” Quiet nodded frantically and then proceeded to stare off to the side, towards the door they had entered from, her expression forlorn and filled with longing.

           

           Ocelot snapped his fingers. “When the Boss walked in, and I mentioned you were ‘in love with the legend’, right?” More frantic nodding from Quiet, as her eyes lit up with glee uncharacteristic for a deadly assassin. She pointed at Ocelot and then imitated some of his gestures (albeit in a rather exaggerated way) and moved her mouth as if she was talking.

 

           A gentle smile materialized across Ocelot’s sharp figures as he brought a hand to his right temple. “You want to know more about what I said that time. About how ‘I was like that once’, don’t you?”

           

           Quiet hummed in satisfaction and nodded in assent. Damn, he was good at charades.

 

           Ocelot chuckled. “You and I are more similar than you’d think. Like you, I met the Boss by pointing a gun at him,” he waved his arm in an arc with a movement infused with theatrical quality, “yet here we both are. Yes, I’ll admit, my feelings for the Boss were similar to yours...perhaps that’s why I see some of myself in you.”

 

           Quiet cocked her head to the side, her expression quizzical.

 

           “When I first suggested the Boss to bring you aboard and later on to take you on missions, I was solely interested in your value as a tactical asset,” Ocelot began. “However, with time, I grew quite fond of you. Partly, it was due to our similarities, but I suppose the fact Snake seemed more relaxed after he got used to you had something to do with it, too. Let’s not get started on the fact you’ve got his back out there and saved his hide more times than we can count,” he paced back and forth as he spoke, and then gave her his back.

 

           “Yes, I felt the same way you do now. I don’t know why, but even so, I’m okay with this. Maybe it’s because of me seeing myself in you, or maybe it’s because the past couple of days is the happiest I’ve seen the Boss in a long time. And trust me, I’ve known Snake for a while,” Ocelot turned his head towards her from behind. “So don’t you worry – I have no intention of stealing your man.”

 

           Quiet snorted as her body shook with brief laughter, laughter Ocelot joined her in. “But seriously,” Ocelot said once his guffaws died down, “if you need anything, just let me know. Somehow. I’ll help you out. Well, except when you and the Boss tell Miller about your little secret. I’ll be there, all right,” he outstretched his hand towards her, “but I’d rather be on the sidelines with popcorn when the time comes.”

 

           Quiet giggled and took his hand into hers, giving it a firm shake.

 

* * *

 

           

           “Twenty laps around all Command Decks, on the double! Take too long, and you’ll be scrubbing the toilets for the Combat Platform!”

 

When Snake found Kaz, the latter was being particularly abrasive to a group of new recruits as they ran through training drills. He was usually rather harsh when he gave soldiers instruction - the world was a rough place, after all, and being prepared could very well mean the difference between life and death – but this was a whole new level. Maybe it wasn’t a very good idea to breach the topic that had Snake seeking his XO for at this time.

 

           “Kaz,” Snake vocalized. Might as well determine what’s got him so worked up.

 

           “Boss,” was Kazuhira Miller’s short, blunt reply.

 

           “Something bothering you?” Snake questioned, hoping that whatever had Kaz so bitter didn’t have to do anything with him (or Quiet).

 

           Kaz took a moment to ponder before simply replying: “It’s nothing,” he took a step towards Snake with the help of his crutch, and inspected him from head to toe. “What about you? It’s rare for you to ever take a day off.”

 

           Snake unconsciously adjusted his scarf, still concealing the affectionate bruising decorating his neck just like the day before. “Felt I was going to get sick. Slept it off. I’m good to go now.”

 

           “Well, I suppose even the great Big Boss can catch a cold.”

 

           “Just imagine what would happen if I were to sneeze while sneaking around,” Snake said, before placing his flesh-and-bone hand on Kaz’s shoulder. “But I’ve known you long enough to be able to tell when something is bothering you. Go ahead. Lay it on me.”

 

           “…It’s really nothing, Snake. As in, it’s insignificant, not important at all. Look at me, getting you all worried over something silly.”

 

           Snake squeezed Kaz a little tighter. “Just lay it out on me. You know I’m going to be worried until you let me know what’s going on.”

 

           Kaz sighed and looked at Venom Snake straight in the eyes. The Boss’ mind raced - what could it be? Had he heard some rumor about him and Quiet? Had someone actually seen the evidence of his little tryst with Quiet peppering his neck despite his best attempts to conceal it? Or had he been under Kaz’s surveillance all this ti-

 

           “Someone stole my cheesecake last night.”

 

           An awkward silence lingered in the air as the two men stared at each other’s blank expressions.

 

           It was Snake who broke the silence. “Come again…?”

 

           “My cheesecake, Snake! I had saved it up for a while, and was finally going to eat it last night…but it was gone! I had given instructions to all of our men not to touch it! But they went and did it anyways! I swear, when I get my hands on who stole my precious cheesecake…” Kaz gnashed his teeth in anger and balled up his fist, digging his fingernails into his palm through his gloved hand.

 

           Snake considered the options quickly and acted on what he thought was the best course of action. “Uhh…Kaz,” Snake shifted a little, “my bad. I ate your cheesecake.” It was technically true. He was the one to swallow the thing, after all. It was best to take the heat from Kaz here and now. If there was one thing Venom Snake had just learned, it was that Kazuhira Miller was serious about cheesecake. Should he try and investigate because someone did not take the blame…could Kaz end up finding out about his relationship with Quiet? Within his mind, Snake shook his head. When had he become so paranoid?

 

           As for Kaz…he stood there, mouth agape for a few seconds, analyzing the simple words Snake just spoke over and over again. But then, instead of going ballistic as Snake expected, Kaz broke down into raucous laughter.

 

           “Of course,” Kaz struggled to vocalize between laughs, “The one person whom I don’t tell not to eat the damn thing is the one that does. How come, though? You’ve never had much of a sweet tooth.”

 

           Snake shrugged. “Never had any before. Thought it looked good. For the record, it WAS good.”

           

           “Oh man, this is rich,” Kaz said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, the mental image of you of all people enjoying strawberry cheesecake by your lonesome makes up for me missing out on delicious dessert. No worries, Boss.” Just then, a sly grin crossed Kaz’s lips. “Unless…you weren’t enjoying it alone, but with a lady friend?”

 

           At that moment, Snake could’ve sworn his mind went into Alert Status.

           

           “Of course not, Kaz,” Snake put up his best poker face for his XO. “You know I haven’t had much time to spend with any of the female recruits.”

 

           “Yeah…aside from Quiet,” Kazuhira scoffed, poison lacing the mute sniper’s name as he spoke it out loud. “But you’d never give that damn XOF broad the time of day if not for her skills, right, Boss?”

 

           It wasn’t a regular Alert! It was a Combat Alert! Definitely a Combat Alert!!

 

           “R-right,” Snake knew when it was time for a tactical retreat. This was one of those times. “I’ll see you around, Kaz. I’ll ask the Mess Hall team to prepare some more cheesecake for you. Going to call Pequod in now. Later.” He turned his back at Mother Base’s Commanding Officer, hastily retreating in the general direction of the Helipad.

 

           Breaking the news to Kaz was going to be more difficult than he thought.

 

* * *

 

 

           “Come back safe, you lovebirds!”  

 

           Snake’s eye snapped towards the pilot of the helicopter he had just disembarked. “Pequod!” he chastised, before muttering under his breath “Wait, how the hell does he know?” Quiet just giggled and high-fived Pequod as she herself got off the chopper.  The two Diamond Dog operatives had just arrived at the Aabe Shifap Ruins, a rather lush area for the landscape of Afghanistan. The remains of ancient stone buildings littered the oasis-like terrain, making for very good cover and sniping positions.

 

 

           Snake raised an eyebrow at Quiet and Pequod’s display of camaraderie. “You two are awfully chummy,” he stated, as the gunship disappeared into the cloudless Afghan sky.

           Quiet shrugged and reached behind her, pulling a pocket-sized notepad and pen from a small knapsack she had recently added to her belt and wrote:

                                                    

           “He could tell there was some tension between us, and approves of us being a thing. Kind of hard not to like the guy.”

 

           Snake’s lip curved upward. “Yeah, I suppose we have a confidante in him, huh. Yet the other men might not be so receptive…” Snake’s mind wandered back to Kaz and his failed attempt to confront him about the issue, but he promptly shook it off. “…anyways, we’ve got work to do.” He pulled up his iDroid, its holographic display coming to life. “All right. Target should be somewhere in this area...he was an old subordinate of mine, so you know how it is – no lethal force.” Quiet hummed in assent. They’ve done this sort of rescue mission before. “Get a bird’s eye view of the area and tag him for me. I’ll make contact with him. When I do, take the shot. We’ll load him in the chopper and take him back home. Quick and eas-”

 

           Snake was interrupted by Quiet giving him a quick smooch on the cheek before she turned invisible and took a mighty, speedy leap towards one of the tower-like structures.

 

           “Cheeky,” Snake commented, placing his hand on the spot she had just placed her lips on.

 

           Quiet surveyed the scenery sprawling in front of her, and it only took her seconds to find the target, who was considerably close to her current location. She took a good look at him from behind her scope and tapped a tiny button on its side twice in quick succession. This system allowed her to easily mark targets for Snake and display their positional data on his iDroid, effectively allowing her to function as a spotter despite her lack of speech.

 

           ”Roger,” Snake radioed in, before cycling through his iDroid’s menus, activating its speaker and rerouting the audio from the Walkman strapped to his belt through it. He headed for the marked target, walking slowly and as quietly as possible as to not muffle the gentle humming coming from his device’s speaker.

 

           Quiet followed his approach through her scope, focusing all of her senses intently. The area surrounding her eyes became stained with black: the parasite-induced Rorschach-blot-like pattern took a hold of her face, heightening her perception further. It was then that Quiet noticed something odd…the Walkman on Snake’s waist was set to “Play” and the tape reels were certainly spinning, but…  

           

           Why wasn’t there an actual tape within the player?

 

           Quiet shook her head. Maybe he had engaged the tape player on accident? Still, as he walked closer to the ex-MSF soldier curiously eying him (and thus, closer to Quiet’s sniping point), she could have sworn she heard his gruff voice faintly humming a tune…

 

           Deciding not to dwell on it, she snapped her sights at the target’s head and pulled the trigger. Soundlessly, the target collapsed forward, his fall broken by Snake who lifted him up and placed him across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “We’re done here,” he spoke into his radio while fiddling with his iDroid with his free hand. “Come pick us up.” Stowing away the machine, he looked up at Quiet, giving her a thumbs-up. Quiet returned the gesture by instead kissing her fingers and then blowing on them at Snake’s general direction.

 

           Cheeky.

 

           “Miller’s going to catch you two flirting one of these days at this rate, you know?” Snake’s radio blared to life, startling him slightly.

 

           “Ocelot?” This little operation they had just engaged wasn’t one where either of Snake’s lieutenants had to oversee and provide intelligence via wire, so of course he’d be a little surprised when one of them called in.

 

           “He better not find out while you’re in the field. Might not let you come back to Mother Base, ever again.”

 

           Thinking back to Kaz’s sour mood earlier in the day, Snake nodded. “Wouldn’t put it past Kaz.”

 

           “I was joking, but there’s really some truth to it, huh…” Ocelot chuckled. “Oh, well. Make sure not to make Pequod and your new recruit TOO uncomfortable with your displays of affection aboard the ACC.”

 

           It was Snake’s turn to snicker. “Will do.”

 

* * *

 

 

           Snake found it deeply moving that the MSF personnel he managed to rescue on the field all carried mementos of their time in Mother Base with them. The photographs in particular always caught his eye as they went through what little belongings the loyal troopers still held, and this time was no exception. When the latest rescue came to, Snake asked him to let him borrow the picture, a request the teary-eyed soldier was too happy to oblige, having been reunited with his Boss and even some of his old comrades.

 

           The photograph in question was a reminder of better days – the staff of the old Mother Base playing soccer, no, wait, “fútbol”, as Chico would’ve corrected him. A bitter smile crossed his lips. Chico…

 

           Emmerich was in the picture, too. Seven years ago, he was a part of the Mother Base family. Now, he was an exile, never to return. He couldn’t even bring himself to say his name any more. While Snake was never the overtly sentimental sort, he couldn’t help but think that the ‘Huey of the then’, and the ‘Emmerich of the now’ were two different people. The man on the photograph was a friend long dead, lost to this world the fateful night Venom Snake entered into a coma.  The Emmerich that worked here? Nothing but a ghost with the same face.

 

           But Paz didn’t need to know that. She would surely see the photograph as a fond memory.

 

           Maybe he’ll talk to her a bit about Quiet while he’s visiting her. Surely, she wouldn’t tell anyone.

 

           Snake’s prosthetic palm pressed the large red button that opens the door to her room in the Medical Platform, and he stepped inside. There she was, reading through the textbook written by Zadornov under his cover identity as a professor. She gave him the usual pleasantries, waving at him as he stepped inside. Smiling gently, he stepped forward and handed her the photo.

 

           She recalled happier days until the inevitable happened. She clutched her head in pain, and asked Snake to come back later, as she had done so many times before. He couldn’t do anything other than oblige.

 

           As he was on his way out, in the hallway between Paz’s room and the outside, he noticed something stuck to the wall. A photograph of a blue Morpho Butterfly.

 

           Something was wrong. His heart was beating wildly. There was an oppressive pressure squeezing at his chest. His lungs burned. He couldn’t breathe properly.

 

           He placed both his real and prosthetic hand against the wall, doing his best to regain his bearings. Looking at that image filled him with unimaginable dread.

 

           Why?

 

           On impulse, he ripped the photograph from its resting place, and stumbled drunkenly towards Paz’s door. Like a man possessed, he pressed the button once again, releasing the lock, and walking forward.

 

           Paz’s back was to him.

 

           Her blood dripped to the floor.

 

           “Paz?!”

 

           “Stay away!” she yelled as she turned around to face him. The sutures on her abdomen had become undone. “There’s a b-bomb…in my…”

 

           No.

 

           Not again.

 

           That wasn’t real.

 

           He had saved her, right?

 

           He?

 

           Who’s “he”?

 

           Venom Snake was not one to freeze in fear, but the insanity unfolding in front of him locked up his body.

 

           Paz dug through her intestines with her bare hands.

 

           And kept digging.

           

           And digging.

 

           And digging.

 

           With a yelp, she produced an all-too-familiar package from her insides.

 

           A beeping package. A package adorned with a peace sign.

 

            A bomb.

 

           He was back inside the helicopter on that night. She leapt, and he reached out to her. But it was too late. She was gone.

 

           An explosion erupted from her.  The fragment in which the peace symbol was printed flew towards his vision.

 

           His hands weren’t his hands. Whose hands were they?

* * *

 

 

           Quiet had been hoping to spend some more time with Snake once he was done with whatever business he needed to attend, so she was keeping an eye out for his movements in the Medical Platform. She noticed he entered the same hallway as the time she had caught him by surprise with the water pistols. Was he supervising the construction in that area? If so, it was rather odd, since nobody was working at the time.

 

           The skies darkened with the coming of the night as Quiet waited. He was taking so long. Overcome with curiosity over what he was doing, she decided to leap off the crane where she was perched and landed in front of the sliding door. It led to a short, sterile hallway that forked in two, but one of the forks was blocked by a sign illustrated with that schoolgirl-like character found on many others like it on Mother Base. Figuring Snake wouldn’t have gone that way, Quiet took a few steps forward until she faced a large door, which slid open once she engaged the release button on the panel to its left.

 

           She was surprised to find Snake lying unconscious face-down on the metallic grating, to say the least.

 

           Rushing to his side and kneeling, she shook his shoulder in an attempt to rouse him. He turned around and his eye opened, but it was distinctly glazy. His prosthetic arm reached out in front of him, and its fingers snapped shut, as if grasping at something, but when he opened them again, there was nothing there.

 

           “So…it was a hallucination…” Snake muttered solemnly. Quiet craned her head at him, curiosity and worry filling her eyes. His real hand found his way onto one of her own, and he gave her a firm squeeze. “You’re really here…right? You’re not just some dream I’m seeing because of this shrapnel on my head?” His voice was as stoic as ever, but even then, she could feel the anguish carried by it.

 

           Quiet returned the squeeze and shook her head.

 

           “Good…That’s one butterfly…I won’t let go of.”

 

           Had they been somewhere more private, Quiet would have reached down to kiss him and held him close in an attempt to comfort him.

 

           But since they were out on the open, it was Snake instead who pulled her in and kissed her passionately. She lost all sense of inhibition for a minute as she melted into his arms…but she eventually broke the kiss, pulling away gently, giving him a look as worried as it was guilty.

 

           Snake knew what she wanted to say. “What if someone sees us?”

 

           So he retorted: “Let them see us. Let them think whatever they want. I don’t care. I might not have much experience about these things, but…” he looked at her straight in the eye. “I’m serious about this. I know you are, too.”

 

           She couldn’t help but smile warmly and give him a cheerful nod.

           

           Snake gazed absentmindedly at the sky, his face reddened. He had not thought at all about what he had just said or done. He had acted on impulse. On instinct. While he was glad he did, he had no idea how to follow up from there.

 

           The starry sky they resided under was breathtakingly beautiful tonight. He never was one to admire the little things like that, but he was changing a bit these days, and maybe that wasn’t so bad. They huddled together, Quiet’s head resting on his shoulder, as they gazed at the stars together.

 

           Snake swore he would never let this go.

 

 

* * *

 

Butterfly Effect ///// Chapter 3 [Causal Correction]

 

* * *

 

           There was an unyielding determination in every step he took. He was no longer going to overthink things. He was going to tell Kaz what was going on and be done with it. Whatever his reaction was, he was ready for it. Nothing in this world or the next was going to separate him from Quiet, so he’d love to see Kazuhira Miller try.

 

           Of course, Kaz was his both his best friend and his second in command – with credentials like that, he deserved to know about his relationship.  It did not mean he had the right to get in the way of their relationship.  
  


So Kaz better be ready, because Snake’s “lady friend” (to borrow a term from Miller himself) was here to stay, whether he liked it or not.  
  


           The door to the Command Platform’s Comms Room slid open as Snake approached, and just as he expected, Kazuhira Miller was there, micromanaging the communications and intelligence equipment.  
  


           “Boss,” Kaz turned to Snake. “I was about to call for you.”

  
“Kaz, we need to talk. It’s important.”

 

           “It’ll have to wait,” Kaz responded. “We just got emergency intel. Boss…it’s Eli and his boys."


	4. Brownian Motion

Rays of light struck Eli's closed eyelids, causing his sleeping form to stir. Groaning in protest, he kicked off his blanket and sat up, staring towards the window of his room.

A woman wearing little held the blinds' twist wand between her fingers, giving Eli a smile that was mirthful, irreverent and warm all at once.

The young blond boy rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes. "What time is it?"

The woman displayed 9 fingers. Eli squinted.

"That late...ah! Tretij! I have to go see Tretij!" The boy leapt from the bed and began rummaging through the drawers of his nightstand as he undressed, before tossing a varsity shirt with the Diamond Dogs logo on and then hopping on one leg as he struggled to don his shorts. Quiet knelt next to the Eli, presenting him with his boots.

"Thanks!" Eli quickly snatched the offered footwear and bolted out of the room as soon as his feet were in them, not even taking the time to tie his shoelaces. Quiet let out a contented sigh as she saw the boy dash away. Sure, Eli was still as headstrong and stubborn as ever, but no longer was his face in a perpetual frown, nor was his sole reason for living a twisted hatred leveled at Snake.

She stared down at her palm, and she was glad. That very same hand of hers had struck the boy when he had declared on the battlefield that he had long wished for death.

She had no way of knowing for sure what her face was like back then, but her feelings had surely reached him. Her words unsaid: "A little boy like you should never say such things!"

It had given the boy pause, and just like that, the "Kingdom of the Flies" came to an end, deescalated by a single display of concern.

She still remembers the helicopter ride back home vividly: Snake telling the boy they needed to have a talk, and the boy spitting back vitriol at him all while inching closer to her.

* * *

"It's your fault It's all your fault!" Eli accused. "You told them to give me all the recessive genes! Make me the inferior one!"

"They made you without telling me a damn thing! I didn't even ask for you to be born!" Snake shot back at the boy. An uncomfortable silence lingered as Eli's posture became rigid.

"…What? Then...but they always told me...I..." The proud boy shrunk, the flames of his anger diminishing, replaced by something else as his small body shook. Quiet wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulder, and he was powerless to resist the comforting gesture. Here the boy sat, his rebellion foiled – a misguided attempt at revenge born from lies and deceit.

Snake's gaze, firmly trained on Eli, softened as he realized what he just said. "I didn't mean it that way...listen, Eli. I didn't ask for you to be born, that much is true. You didn't ask for it, either, but here you are. You don't have to live in my shadow," Snake leaned in closer. "Do you even want to be a soldier like me?"

Eli's head shot back up, the boy once again flaring with defiance. "I was made to be a soldier!"

"I know, but is that what **you** want?" Snake repeated calmly.

"I..."

"Fighting is all you've known, isn't it?" Snake stated. "That's why you can't answer. If there's one thing I've learned, if only recently, is there's more to life than just fighting," his eye wandered towards Quiet, who gave him a soft smile.

"But I...I was made to be a soldier," Eli repeated weakly as his small body shook, trying to justify his existence up to that point.

"If you want to be a soldier, you can become a soldier," Snake answered," but why not first experience what else life has to offer? Let me cut you a deal."

"A deal?"

"There's plenty of people back in Mother Base you can learn a thing or two from. How about you do just that? Dabble a bit into different hobbies, learn to have a little fun."

Eli scoffed dismissively, but he was not fooling anyone with his fake bravado. "That sounds useful."

"It might make you happy," Snake replied, before taking a deep breath and weighing his next words very carefully. "I...want you to be happy, kid. I can't tell you I'm your father, but I want you to have a life of your own."

Eli cast his gaze downwards, his eyes watering ever so slightly. Hearing Snake say those words to him, Quiet immediately perceived, was both like a sucker punch and an embrace rolled all into one.

"You're free to live your life as you choose. If you want help, you just need to ask. If you'll let them, the Diamond Dogs will be your comrades - your family. All I ask is you don't draw your weapons on your comrades ever again."

The boy nodded absentmindedly, as if trying to take it all in. With their attention focused on Eli, the two adults aboard the ACC did not notice the red-headed boy with the gas mask floating behind Snake. It wasn't until Eli leveled his sight at the stowaway which had appeared from thin air that the duo registered the foreign presence. While certainly surprised, both Quiet and Snake remained calm as the levitating child stretched his arm towards Eli, long fabric dangling from the limb.

"On one condition..." the blond muttered as he reached forward and gripped at the floating boy's oversized sleeve. "Where I go, he goes."

Snake grinned softly. "I don't see why not."

* * *

With that, Eli had returned to Mother Base, this time for good, little anonymous friend in tow. As they had no other name to give him, they called him Tretij, and soon the Diamond Dogs faced a unique problem: the child's unrestrained psychic abilities. The R&D Team worked tirelessly around the clock to come up with a solution: they had managed to prepare a room that would dampen Tretij's supernatural abilities, and in turn allow the boy a semblance of normalcy. While this was hardly better than confinement, the boy was thankful; for once, his thoughts were his and his alone. Tretij also received visitors often, most commonly Eli.

As she mused, Quiet smiled to herself. The lives of everyone on Mother Base had transformed, little by little, with her not being an exception. No longer was she the ruthless, cold assassin – that woman felt like a distant fantasy. She was still a soldier, but no longer did she live only for the next mission. As Snake had said – there's more to life than just fighting.

Staring at the mess of blankets Eli had left in his wake, she shrugged, and figured that spoiling him a little wouldn't be too bad. Today was a special day, after all.

As she moved to fix the boy's chaotic bedding, she wished for these carefree days of theirs to never end.

* * *

Eli leapt off the passenger seat of the jeep with words of gratitude and a wave to Flaming Buffalo, the woman who'd done the favor of dropping him on the Medical Platform. He climbed the stairwells quickly, making his way to an automatic door in the uppermost level. Within, there was a hallway with a sturdy metal door which could be opened by pressing a big red button, leading to some rafters. Eli knew what was on the other side of that doorway because he'd seen the Boss stare at that door longingly several times before. When Eli, driven by curiosity, decided to take a peek and saw the area was as vacant as can be, he decided to ask the man himself about it. Snake brushed off the question, simply telling him he was reminiscing about the past.

While that was a mystery Eli wanted answers to, that was not the reason he had come here. He took a left in the hallway and kept walking until he arrived at Tretij's room. Inside, the boy he expected to see sat on the bed, his legs dangling from the edge, and he chatted happily with two men. One of them sat on a stool right next to Trejit, and fiddled with an item on the psychic's head, obscured by the redhead's bright strands. The other was Big Boss himself, who leafed through an assortment of drawings Tretij had made, similar to the many that adorned the walls of his quarters.

"These are pretty good," Snake began, "I can see Wallaby's a pretty good teacher." The one-eyed man looked over his shoulder as the pneumatic hiss of the entrance notified the occupants of the room of the presence of a new visitor. "Oh, hi, Eli. Did you oversleep?"

"Eli!" Tretij chirped happily.

"Hi Trey, Boss, Dragon." Eli greeted back. "Yeah, I did. Haven't missed it yet though, have I?"

"Nope!" The man tinkering with the object on Tretij's head – a young engineer referred to as Rampant Dragon, whose most striking feature were his bright green eyes so intense they almost glowed – waved a driver he held at Eli's general direction. "Just making the final adjustments, here."

"Sorry, kid," Snake grinned apologetically. "Maybe I should've gone a little easier on you last night with CQC practice."

Eli took a free seat for his own and leaned deeply against the backrest before interlocking his fingers and placing his palms behind his head. "You know I don't like it when you go easy, Boss."

"That's an understatement," Snake replied with a grin. "For the record, you're becoming really, really good. At this rate, I should start worrying about you becoming better than me."

"Of course, that's going to happen anyways," Eli smirked smugly. "You're not getting any younger."

Snake snorted. "Now don't go getting ahead of yourself, kid. Whoever said old dogs can't learn new tricks never met me."

"Aaaaand…done!" With a soft click, Dragon pulled away the tool he was using and placed it gingerly on the nightstand, giving Eli a good look of the object he'd been working on. It was a long, flat, bullet-shaped black article set horizontally against his skull, with its tip pointing forward. It reminded Eli of a hair clip, but the device was in no way meant to keep the psychic's boy wild mane in place.

"Trey, if you press the button, you can turn the dial on the implant, and it should allow you to use your psychic abilities to a certain extent," Rampant Dragon explained. "Those are a part of you, so we wouldn't want to take them away…but like this, you can move around freely and the thoughts of others should stay out. Of course, the more of your powers the dial setting lets you use, the more the voices might bother you…but even at maximum, it shouldn't allow for you to be unwillingly controlled again. That's the theory, anyways."

Trejit's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Thanks, Spike!" he said, giving the lanky engineer a tight but not unwelcome squeeze before leaping from the bed and standing next to Eli, who shifted from his slouched position and was soon back on his feet as well.

"I must have really good timing," Eli said, before tapping Snake on the shoulder. "Boss, we're off. Gonna show Trey around Mother Base properly."

"You two have fun," Snake answered as he kept leafing through Tretij's artwork. "Kaz is going to come by later with a team and we're going to transport Tretij's personal effects to his new room, so I'll stick around."

"They're already gone, Boss," Dragon pointed out.

Snake tore himself away from the bundle of drawings to confirm as much before chuckling. "Of course they are."

* * *

It was a little past noon when Eli stopped in his tracks, the spirited journey he and Tretij had mounted grinding to a sudden halt. He glared at the metallic structure overhead, solemn.

Tretij did not need special perception to notice the change in his companion's behavior. "Eli, is this..."

"Yeah," the blond boy clenched his fists with a tightness that made his palms hot. "This is where I...Ralph..."

Tretij said nothing, knowing the silence was more comforting than any words he could level at the other child.

"Just a couple months ago, I would have hurt anyone and everyone in order to feel better about myself, not caring at all for their circumstances. It's different now, but...I can't help but wonder. Is it truly all right for me to be happy here? After all I've done? I can keep on living, but..." Eli's face contorted painfully, "is that even fair?"

"Eli..." his companion muttered.

"You sound troubled, little soldier boy." A deep voice interrupted, and the two children quickly turned towards its source. A tall black man with a buzzcut approached them, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses not unlike Kazuhira Miller's.

"You...you're Glaz, right?" Eli acknowledged, recognizing the adult. Previously a spotter for the United States Marine Corps, he had been extracted and recruited by Snake instead of assassinated by him during a contract mission. He'd served a short time with MSF, and when Diamond Dogs was built from the ashes of that organization, Glaz was one of the first to return to duty.

Eli remembered all this because Glaz's code name stuck with him - a carryover from his MSF days, distinguishing him from the rest of the Diamond Dogs and their animal-based monikers, one of the rare exceptions in their considerably-sized ranks.

"Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear a little," Glaz said. "I'd like to say something, if you don't mind."

Eli just stared off to the side as he stuck his hands into his pockets, ignoring Glaz's movement and Tretij's widening eyes.

"Look at me," the soldier requested, rather than ordered.

Eli contemplated studying the wall a little longer, but curiosity won him over. Once he did as asked, he recoiled internally in surprise.

The adult's left eye was made of glass - an artificial orb meant to discreetly conceal the absence of the real thing. It never could, though, as a collection of deep scars and old wounds surrounded it and immediately brought the prosthesis into focus.

"See this? It's exactly what you shouldn't do."

"W-what do you mean?" Eli stammered in confusion.

"I was a spotter, you know. Using my eyes, I played a part in the death of many, many people. So I gouged one out - messed myself up real bad," Glaz pointed at his glass eye before continuing. "Guilt drove me to do it, but I was just trying to feel better about myself by hurting. Don't do that. Don't let guilt consume you: it's meaningless."

"Meaningless...?" Eli repeated dumbly.

"What good comes out of it?"

Eli pondered the question for a moment, before shaking his head. "Maybe you want to make things right. It could drive you to do good."

"That, my boy," Glaz responded, "is doing the right thing for the wrong reasons. Soldiers like us, we have no choice but to fight other soldiers; it's the nature of the battlefield. I've heard the Boss say there's no thing as an absolute enemy for us soldiers. So in the end, we end up hurting and killing people similar to us. Our comrades, too, will die at their hands."

Eli remained silent, his gaze locked with that of Glaz's. Tretij, too, paid attention to the man's words, transfixed with something resembling reverence.

Glaz continued: "I didn't know how to live with that. The friends I've lost, and the lives I've taken. But when I joined MSF, I started to understand."

It was Tretij's turn to question the Diamond Dog. "Understand what?"

Glaz smiled at the red-headed boy. "How to move forward."

Tretij tilted his head quizzically, and Eli appeared intrigued. Taking this as his cue to go on, Glaz began to talk once more.

"We cannot undo the things we have done or bring back those we've lost. What we can do is live. For the sake of every life we've taken, and for every friend lost, we must live nobly and with pride. The reason they died was so we may not. The only way to pay tribute to their sacrifice is to live: merely existing or surviving won't cut it."

He took a moment to don his aviator sunglasses once more before directing himself at Eli. "Boy, don't ask yourself if it's okay for you to be happy here - you MUST be happy, for their sake as well as yours. The best way to honor the memory and sacrifice of the fallen is by living to the fullest."

Silence hung in the air for moments that seemed eternal, before Eli muttered. "...I don't know if I can."

"It's not going to be easy," Glaz reassured, "but you can do it. It's your mission, after all." The man spun around, showing the boys his back. "I have to get back to my shift now, but if you ever want to talk, feel free to seek me out, kid."

"...Thanks," Eli managed to call out. Glaz smiled before leaving the children alone once more.

* * *

"That...should be everything," Kazuhira Miller declared, directing himself towards the three members of the Support Unit who had helped carry Tretij's effects to his new room. "That will be all. Dismissed."

"Sir!" the soldiers chanted in unison, saluting both Kaz and Snake before filtering out of the child's new residence. As they left, Dragon entered, carrying a box of his own under his arm. "New guys sure are wound up tight, eh, Boss?"

"I think it has to do more with you being wound too loose, Dragon," Kaz retorted.

"That's a perk I should be able to afford," Dragon smirked sharply, "as head of R&D."

"He's got you there, Kaz," Snake said, amused.

Kaz sighed as he shrugged. "Can't argue with your results, but I can't help but wish you weren't so damn young and foolhardy."

"Youth fosters creativity, y'know," Spike answered back. "Besides, that also means I got more years to roll with the Diamond Dogs. Oh, and since you were on the topic of results..." he patted the package he had been carrying, "I got what you asked for."

"Let's have it, then," Kaz took the package into his hand, placing it on top of the bed before flipping the box open. Snake peeked over Kaz's shoulder, peering at the contents of the container.

"Huh, nice job," the commander of the Diamond Dogs uttered.

Kaz pulled out a plushie that resembled D-Dog, the PMC's unofficial mascot, when he was a puppy, right down to the coloring of its fur. Like the real canine himself, this plush wore an eyepatch where its right eye should be.

"Yeah, real nice," Kaz concurred.

"It barks and wags its tail if you push its midsection, too," Dragon commented proudly. "These were designed to distract enemy personnel during field operations, but looking at it, you wouldn't really think that's what it was made to do."

"...Maybe we should make Diamond Dogs into a name brand," Kaz declared, waving his one good arm while taking care not to let drop his crutch. "Apparel, toys, consumer appliances..."

"Whoah there, Master Miller!" Dragon interrupted his superior officer, open palms gesturing to slow down. "I'm afraid the world isn't ready for a Big Boss figure with karate-chopping action."

"I was only joking..." Kaz defended lamely. The other two present knew better than to believe his claim.

"You know, Kaz," Snake began, wisely deciding it was time to change the subject before both him and Spike were dragged into a passionate, impromptu business proposal, "For someone who claimed to hate kids, you're awfully thoughtful when it comes to them. Tretij absolutely adores D-Dog."

Kaz placed the plush toy between white pillows. "I...don't actually hate kids, per se - what I hate is seeing them in the battlefield. That's all."

"Yeah...I know what you mean," Snake smiled bitterly. "When I brought those kids on to Mother Base for the first time, I made a show of them being naturals, but I never truly intended to use child soldiers."

"Trying to sell me on the idea of letting them stick around, were you?" Kaz said. "In the end, you didn't have to. Things got complicated with them around, but it seems everything worked out in the end."

"Yeah," Snake nodded. "Good thing we managed to reunite all of Eli's little soldiers with their families."

"All's well that ends well," Kaz said, before turning to stare at the plush canine. "Sometimes I wonder, though...aren't things just too good right now?"

Snake quirked the eyebrow above his good eye. "What do you mean?"

Kaz shrugged, clicked his tongue, and took a deep breath before speaking. "I just, you know, when things are too good to be true, they usually are?"

"Don't jinx it!" Dragon mouthed, half-joking, half-serious. "If you really want things to get lively that badly, sock the Boss across the jaw again, like that time."

Snake rubbed the place where, months ago, Kaz's knuckles had crashed against his bone, sending him reeling and onto the ground. He would have never expected the one-armed Kaz, of all people, to floor him with a single punch. He grimaced at the memory.

To say Kaz had taken the news of Snake and Quiet's relationship badly would be an understatement.

When Snake announced his relationship with the sniper to his Commanding Officer (alongside the treatment of her vocal cord parasite infection), Kaz stared at him blankly for seconds that seemed like hours. Then, without warning, Miller's gloved fist struck the lower side of his face, sending Snake spinning, and onto the ground.

Damn if the man couldn't throw a mean punch.

Miller would then give him the cold shoulder for more than a week, communicating through Ocelot with requests like "Ocelot, tell the Boss the R&D Unit has finished development of his new assault rifle" (even when they were in the same room, much to the amusement of the revolver-twirling spy).

Their relationship, thankfully, went back to normal with time.

What's more, and Snake could not grasp the how or the why, but somehow, Kaz and Quiet had come to terms with one another.

Maybe things really are too good to be true. Snake hummed pensively. "Hopefully not the calm before a storm."

Dragon threw his arms in the air. "You two worry way too much. Business is good, we don't have to worry about XOF anymore, everyone's in high spirits, and those two kids are actually being kids for once. What could possibly go wrong?"

Snake and Kaz slowly turned to face Spike, who shrank under their steely glares. "What?"

"...Weren't you the one saying not to jinx it?" Kaz rebuked, shaking his head.

"Oh, come on, you guys don't actually believe in superstitions, right? Right?" Spike countered, admittedly a little nervous.

"Well, no, but..." Snake was interrupted, however, by Ocelot calling out his name, and soon enough the door to the room swung open. The Russian was accompanied by Quiet, her Guilty Butterfly rifle slung over her shoulder - alarming.

"Unmarked helicopter's flying circles around Mother Base, Boss. We radioed them, pilot's requesting permission to land, claiming they have a cargo to deliver to you," Ocelot reported, his thumbs hooked on his belt loops.

"Cargo?" Snake repeated, perplexion reflected in his countenance.

"They say they won't land until you're present on the helipad. Should we shoot them down?"

"Negative," responded Snake. "Not before we know what they're really here for. We'll just keep our distance. Have some of the men wear thermals."

"Already done. There's a security team with their weapons aimed at the chopper as we speak."

"Good job," he turned to face Quiet. "I'm counting on you to watch our backs out there."

Quiet gave him a cutesy mock-salute in response, easing some of the tension in the room. With Snake in the front, and Quiet on the rear, there was nothing to fear. Snake gave her a small smile, and she answered in kind.

"Okay, everyone, let's move out," Snake ordered, and the occupants began to filter out of the room. As they walked side by side, Kaz addressed Spike:

"Anything happens, I'm holding **you** responsible."

Dragon's shoulders slumped. "Aw, come on..."

* * *

As their jeeps approached the Command Platform via one of the platform-connecting bridges, the mysterious helicopter overhead came into view. Snake could immediately tell it was not a civilian vehicle: that was a military transport if he ever saw one. Were they enemies - maybe remnants of XOF? If they were, knocking on Mother Base's metaphorical front door was extremely reckless. That is, unless, they were scheming something wicked.

"Any signs of other bogeys in our airspace?" Snake asked, hands on the steering wheel. A pair of silhouettes in the distance caught his eye.

Ocelot shook his head. "Negative, Boss. Clear skies, as far as radar tells us. Clear waters, too. Nothing in our sensor net. If this is a diversion, our sentries will let us know."

Snake nodded before sinking his foot into the brake pedal, causing their vehicle to slowly grind to a halt. They'd cleared the bridge and were now on the Command Platform proper, and this spot was as good as any to park and then discretely advance onto their respective positions.

Besides, he wanted to have a word with a certain pair of snooping boys. The duo paid no mind to the noise made by the stopping jeeps, instead choosing to continue surveilling the situation unfolding from their spot, leaning over the corner of a nearby wall.

"Eli. Tretij."

"Ack! Boss!" Eli spun around to come face-to-face the commander of the Diamond Dogs. "You startled me."

Snake apologized before rubbing his chin with his index and thumb. "What can you tell me about the situation?"

"I was hoping you would fill me in, not the other way around," Eli answered. "The guys have set a perimeter around the helipad, and there's an unmarked helicopter hovering over it. What's going on here?"

Snake shrugged. "Beats me. Supposedly, they have some 'cargo' for me, but I wasn't expecting anything and that's obviously not one of ours."

"Cargo?" Tretij gaped. "As in a package?"

The redundancy of Tretij's words was not lost on Snake, but it also made him think. If he didn't order any special deliveries, whatever this 'package' was had to have been sent by a third party. Additionally, the presence of a military helicopter, as well as a pilot daring enough to stay in their airspace despite having weapons pointed at their aircraft thinned the number of possible senders.

There were two distinct possibilities: either he had been sent a parcel by one of their higher-profile previous clients...or Cipher. Both possibilities were plausible enough: a previous client would want the fact they employ the services of their little private army hush-hush, while Cipher often employed unmarked helicopters in its operations.

He had a nagging feeling it WAS Cipher, but being so overt with a diversion would be, tactically speaking, too obvious - although perhaps, that would be exactly what they'd want the Diamond Dogs to think? Lure them into a false sense of security, and be unprepared for the obvious precisely **because** it was too obvious.

That would also imply whoever is piloting that chopper has some serious brass balls, because there's no way they'd get out of the line of fire of his men if that was the case.

Curioser and curioser…

Deciding he wouldn't be getting any answers if he stood back deliberating all day, Snake crossed his arms in front of his chest. "All right. Eli, Tretij, stick with Quiet. Stay in whatever sniper's nest she sets up."

Eli's eyebrow twitched. "Hey! I don't need a babysitter! Don't treat me like a child, Boss!" he huffed angrily, in the way children are wont to do.

Snake let out a sharp breath through his nose. "You misunderstand. I want you to watch her back. She's going to take care of you, sure - but you two are going to do the same. This isn't something I'd ask of just anyone. It's an important mission."

The anger Eli felt evaporated in an instant before giving a grin both sly and toothy. "...I see!" the blonde boy exclaimed. "Yes, I can see why it'd be an important role for you, Boss. Count on me."

Snake smiled. Sometimes, Eli could be painfully predictable…but just as well. He did have confidence in Eli's ability to handle himself, but even then, he'd prefer not to expose either him or Tretij to too much danger. Digging through his belt pack, Snake felt for his binoculars and gripping the desired article, handed it to Eli. "Here. Keep an eye and ear on the situation."

"You got it, Boss!" the boy acknowledged enthusiastically. Tretij just stared at his companion, looked up at Snake, and gave him the tiniest of smiles. It appeared that, despite being confined to a room until today, the little Russian was the more perceptive of the boys.

Perhaps, all Eli had wanted all along was to feel like he belonged somewhere. Snake was glad the kid was nowhere as icy as he had been when they first met.

"Boss," Spike approached, holding in his hands a cone-shaped object in his hands, "you're gonna need this." Rampant Dragon handed him a megaphone.

"Huh. Yeah, I think I'm going to need it. Thanks."

"I'm going to head down to the lab and prep D-Walker," Spike said. "If push comes to shove..." his bright green eyes narrowed dangerously, "I'll make sure it gets to you."

"Appreciate it," Snake replied. "Kaz, Ocelot, on me. Let's see what our uninvited guest wants."

The trio walked under cover of solid metal structures towards the wall of bodies guarding their home turf, taking their time to account for Kaz's pace. The wall parted as they approached, with soldiers saluting and welcoming their Boss to their defensive formation. Snake, in turn, let out a short hum of recognition to the Dogs' greetings, fiddling with the megaphone in his hands before raising it in the direction of the unidentified helicopter.

Feedback noise resounded when he pulled the trigger on the device's base. One of the soldiers closest to him held his hands over his ears. "This is Big Boss! State your affiliation and the reason for your visit!" Snake's amplified voice boomed.

The helicopter's pilot did not dawdle on giving him a response through his vehicle's speaker system.

"I'm here with Cipher! My mission is to deliver a gift to you!"

Kaz visibly recoiled and Snake was pretty sure that he had unconsciously done the same.

"Cipher…!" Kaz spat through gritted teeth.

Ocelot merely raised an eyebrow. "Awful bold of them, to come knocking on our door and letting us know they're with Cipher. What should we do, Boss?"

"Shoot it down, that's what!" Kazuhira interjected. "Cipher's our enemy; we can't give them any quarter."

"Hold on, don't get ahead of yourself," Ocelot replied with that characteristic, almost detached calm of his. "The Boss should decide what we do from here."

Snake deliberated internally as the tension in the air was clearly intensifying. Upon hearing the name of Cipher, his soldiers had become twitchy and nervous. Readily admitting they were Cipher – was this some sort of psychological warfare trick? If so, it was working quite well. Regardless, Snake was not to be intimidated: to give an order at this time would both hasty and reckless. He needed more information, so he depressed the megaphone's trigger once more.

"What's this 'gift' you've brought with you? If you don't answer, I'm afraid we'll have to forcefully remove you from our airspace!"

"Boss!" Kaz immediately protested.

Snake put a hand on Kaz's shoulder. "We need more information, Kaz. I am tempted to follow up on your suggestion…but taking a decision without having a good grasp on the situation just isn't a good idea."

Kazuhira sighed. "I know. Doesn't make me want to light up those bastards any less."

The aircraft crewman, for his part, remained silent, and the only sound that could be heard on the Command Platform was the whooshing of the helicopter's blades. Nobody spoke, and was it not for those very rotors, one could almost hear a pin drop.

After a minute that dragged on much, much longer than it should, the pilot spoke once more, his voice reaching everyone. "It's a person who wishes to speak with you, alongside their wheelchair. That's all."

"Wheelchair…" Kaz dwelled on that particular tidbit. "Boss, do you think…?"

"Zero? I hadn't heard he needed a wheelchair nowadays, but the years could be getting to him," Snake finished. "I'm certain it isn't Emmerich, for one."

Major Zero, leader of Cipher – one person who could very well have motive to speak with him. Or perhaps it wasn't Zero at all, and this was all some elaborate ruse. Last time he and his men fell for one of those, MSF ceased to be. Never again.

Still, if it REALLY was Zero in that helicopter, he couldn't just bring himself to give a kill order. From a purely pragmatic perspective, assassinating Zero would ignite hostilities with Cipher further, making their own personal cold war turn hot in the blink of an eye.

Then there was how he had once called Zero his friend, and despite all the anger leveled at who once was his CO in FOX, he could not bring himself to truly hate him.

As such, Snake made his choice. He raised the megaphone once more.

"I am authorizing your landing on the Helipad below you. There, the person you are transporting is allowed to disembark. As for any other crew in your aircraft, you cannot go any further than that helipad, at the risk of being shot. Should you need to refuel, my men will handle it, but you are to leave immediately afterwards," he lowered the amplifying device and turned towards Kaz, whose countenance betrayed no emotion. "I thought you'd be angry about this."

"…I would be," Kaz said, "but it was the right call. That's why you're the Boss."

"…Thanks," Snake replied, gesturing his soldiers to stay sharp and keep an eye for any suspicious action as he did.

The helicopter touched down on the helipad, and the helicopter rotors began to slow down, the noise they made dying with them. A ramp was lowered from the vehicle, and a man in tactical gear came out, back first. A quick scan told Snake that he was carrying no weapons on him, and he was holding on to the handles of what Snake assumed was a wheelchair.

Then, the wheels came into view as the man walked backwards and kept the wheelchair and its occupant from falling victims to gravity. So the pilot's story checked out. He made a mental note, however, to have the chair checked for explosives.

He held that though.

When he saw who sat on it, his chest felt as it was being constricted.

His blood froze.

He fell to his knees.

This wasn't Zero.

This wasn't Zero at all.

The shrapnel embedded in his forehead began to throb.

His vision blurred.

The fearless legendary soldier was _trembling…_

The person on the wheelchair, which now faced him, gave a sad smile.

Kaz removed his sunglasses with a shaky hand. He, too, felt as if someone had punched the air out of him.

"It has…been far too long, Snake," a sweet, if accented voice reached his ears.

Snake's mind kept repeating that this couldn't be happening.

There was no way this was real.

It was **impossible**.

He had accepted the truth, so why…?

Why, how, was _she_ here…?!

Sitting on the wheelchair, with a blanket covering her lower body, and her hands on her lap…

…was Paz.

* * *

Butterfly Effect ///// Chapter 4 [Brownian Motion]

* * *

The hangar bay was deserted. Its only occupant: a monolith of steel.

The Mammal Pod – the housing of an artificial intelligence meant to create peace through nuclear deterrence. A fool's errand, defied by the ghost in the machine itself.

The circular lens-like sensor near the top of its cylindrical body lit up red. It flickered.

The voice of a woman long dead to the world spoke.

"I'm so sorry…"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Holy MOTHER of schedule slips, Batman! I’m so sorry this story went into hiatus for almost a year without me giving you any signs of life!
> 
> But - there’s a perfectly valid explanation for that. Who has two thumbs and finished all the coursework for his Bachelor’s Degree? This guy!
> 
> The truth of the matter is, I’ve been real busy finishing University, and I did my final presentation at the tail-end of last month…it was based on an internship I am still currently finishing (that’s one of the graduation options in my country. Basically, do an internship/unpaid work for six months in a real business. Since that’s a good way to get workplace experience, I went with that choice, instead of a thesis. I still had to do a presentation that was kind of like a thesis, though).
> 
> Still, coursework, and then work-work have kept me real busy, so it wasn’t until now that I got an opportunity to actually continue writing.  
> Anyways, on to actual author’s notes regarding the story: I want you to know I’m sticking to my original plan I’ve had for this story since day one. While this chapter might seem radically different from the previous three, lacking in fluff and whatnot, it’s where the plot actually starts moving. This is the butterfly effect alluded to in the title – Quiet’s presence radically changes the outcome of our favorite piece of non-existing game content, the “Phantom Episode”.
> 
> (I’m still bitter about that…)
> 
> Don’t worry, though, we’ll be back to our scheduled fluffy feelings in the next chapter!
> 
> …or will we?
> 
> In any case, this story was never meant to be too long – it should be finished by the end of the year, and in my notes, I had it planned out for a length of 8 chapters.
> 
> Something else: there’s a character introduced this chapter we had never heard of. Why is he here, I wonder?


	5. Laplace's Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ex nihilo nihil fit.

The meeting room they had decided to move into felt minuscule as silence hung heavy in the air.

Hot beverages had gone cold within their cups and mugs sitting atop a heavy oaken table, yet neither Snake, nor Kaz, nor Paz dared speak the first words.

The woman sitting next to Snake placed a reassuring hand on his thigh.

Quiet knew of the hallucinations that once haunted Snake - how difficult it had been for him to come to terms with the death of the very girl that sat before them. This was proof life had a twisted sense of humor.

The first to speak was the wheelchair-bound girl. “Snake...I know this must be shocking, but I'm glad to see you again.”

Venom Snake let out a breath he had been holding for God knows how long, but didn't follow up by saying anything.

Quiet's gave his leg a tiny squeeze. She figured he'd need a little bit of a push.

“...I'm glad too, it's just...” Snake finally replied, “...I was finally coming to terms with your death. I can't understand how you can be alive. Is my head playing tricks on me again?”

“Boss...” Kaz uttered, hardly louder than a whisper.

“I remember-” Snake's voice had found his conviction once more, “-you jumping from the helicopter and exploding. I saw you die.”

Paz eyes' watered, and then she shook her head. “I almost did. When I jumped, I saw a rocket hit the helicopter...you were right, even if I didn’t listen,” she bit her lower lip. “You took _it_ out.”

That had been how Snake's mind had tried to justify the existence of the Paz delusion he’d seen for so long. After realizing ‘Paz’ was but a figment of his imagination, he’d assumed that recollection had also been part of his self-deception.

Snake was no longer sure what to believe.

“Had I listened to you then...” Paz's gaze wandered to his prosthetic left arm, “had I not  pulled that stupid stunt,” she choked a sob, “the helicopter might not have gotten hit. Nothing of this would've happened.”

Snake stared straight at her. “Don't blame yourself. You didn't have a full grasp of the situation you were in, and you did it to protect us”.

“But you paid the price,” Paz couldn't bear to keep looking at him, and decided to let her vision wander to the side instead.

“So did you, from the look of things,” Snake answered.

Paz snorted before smiling bitterly. “I'd say losing the use of my legs and a few years of my life is a small price to pay for my mistakes.”

Kaz leaned forward. “You were in a coma, too?”

“When I hit the water,” Paz explained, not yet willing to meet the gaze of the friends she once betrayed, “the fall caused irreparable damage to my spine. I lost consciousness and would've drowned, had Major Zero not been responding to the attack on Mother Base itself.”

Kaz frowned. “Zero...responded?”

Paz nodded at Kaz before continuing. “Yes, as soon as he got word of XOF's actions, he dispatched a response team. They found me floating on a piece of debris from the helicopter – and then they found you.”

Snake's eye widened. “Wait, you mean...”

“...Cipher took care of your rescue and hospitalization? Yes. I’m sure you know that incident was Skull Face acting on his own,” she confirmed, her face darkening as she spoke of her previous captor.

“Moving on...I was in a coma as well, although mine was medically induced. The neurological damage I incurred in the fall was severe, and that's not all – I had several vital organs removed. I was lucky to be found when I was: Zero used his connections so I could receive emergency treatment and transplants. The operation was helmed by Dr. Clark herself-”

“Para-Medic,” Snake interrupted, voice charged with bitterness. “Nice to see her quackery did someone good for a change.”

Paz tilted her head sideways. “I take it you don't like Dr. Clark very much?”

“Used to like her just fine,” said Snake, “but then she went ahead and used my body for her experiments without my consent. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive her for that.”

“That's funny,” Paz giggled with a hint of mischief. “The only photograph she keeps on her work desk is of you. Oh, and she refers to herself as 'the mother of Snake's children', so I'm certain the dislike is not mutual.”

Quiet's body rigidly tensed as a familiar butterfly-shaped ink-like blot spread around her eyes. Unlike the usual determined expression that usually accompanies the blot’s presence, she looked as if she had eaten something very, very sour.

Kazuhira's countenance, for his part, would scream “say what?!” No small feat, what with much of his features concealed by his trademark aviators.

Even Ocelot, who’d been leaning against the wall resembling a paragon of stoicism, raised an eyebrow so high it threatened to leave his forehead.

When the occupants of the room partly recovered their bearings, Snake chipped in: “Dis…disturbing…”

Paz giggled a little more. “She IS out there...anyways, back to business. I awoke from my coma after four years, but the reason I hadn't contacted you was because Zero made a request of me, for when my physical therapy was done.”

“Role?” Snake asked, somewhat apprehensive.

Paz was meditative for a moment, pondering what to say. She decided it would be best to simply deliver it bluntly. “As Zero's replacement.”

Snake was at a loss for words, but Kaz sure wasn't: “So wait, you're telling me, the **leader** of Cipher, our nemesis...is sitting with us, right here in Mother Base?!” he blurted angrily.

Paz shifted her vision towards the Diamond Dogs' XO and spoke behind pleading eyes. “Not exactly… and not your enemy, either. Allow me to explain.”

Kaz crossed his arms. “Too many damn explanations. This better be good.”

Paz nodded before beginning another account. “Skull Face and his XOF unit played everyone. This includes Zero, whom he poisoned with parasites that cause continuous degeneration of the victim's mental faculties. Dr. Clark and her people could not cure it – all they could do was delay the rate in which Zero would be affected, but...eventually, he will enter a vegetative state.”

 Snake let out a deep breath. This was a lot to take in.

“Knowing the inevitability of this outcome, Zero did two things: one, change the internal leadership structure of Cipher, giving Dr. Clark and Mr. Donald Anderson as much administrative power as he had-”

Donald Anderson, better known to him as Sigint - another name Snake hadn't heard of in a while.

“-and two, essentially grooming me to be his successor, which ties to my next point.”

“That is?” Snake asked.

“Serving as liaison between you and Cipher. Zero's wish…was to put the entirety of Cipher's assets at your disposition.”

This conversation was certainly taking turns Snake couldn’t have foreseen “Wait...what?”

“Zero can no longer strive to create the world The Boss envisioned,” Paz stated. “The only person who can do something like that...is you. He decided to place his faith in you.”

The commander sighed. “Creating a world like that…hasn’t been my intention for a very long time."

“He knew that,” Paz countered. “Regardless, he believes the future lies with you, and he didn’t want his organization to hinder your efforts. In other words, no more hostilities – now that our mutual enemy no longer exists, I'm here to discuss diplomacy.”

Snake didn’t know what he was expecting going into the conversation, but it was certainly not this.

“Boss...” Kaz immediately muttered in protest. The direction this little talk was taking disagreed with him.

“I understand it sounds unbelievable, but Cipher no longer wishes to antagonize you. Skull Face is no longer a threat, and the organization has no quarrel against the Diamond Dogs. As a matter of fact, Cipher wishes to offer you a substantial financial reward for stopping him and his XOF unit, regardless of whether you accept the assets offered to you.”

“They can keep the money,” Kaz interjected. “Tell them to shove it up their ass.”

“...The years haven't been kind to you, have they, Kaz?” Paz said wistfully, shifting her attention to the blond. “But it was Skull Face that did that to us, not Cipher. They went rogue.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Kaz spat through gritted teeth as he leaned forward, his temper dangerously close to spilling forth.

“I'm the same as you, Kazuhira Miller. You lost an arm and a leg because of Skull Face’s machinations. I lost my ability to walk. But it's over now; that man is gone, and he's not going to be hurting anyone again.”

Snake kept it to himself, but he had to agree with Paz. Skull Face – called such for the hideous burn scars that marred his features and made him look like an emaciated ghoul – had been the cause of much of their suffering for the better part of a decade. As commander of Cipher's covert XOF Unit, he had concocted an insane plan that would eradicate the English language at the cost of millions, if not billions of lives. But, before he did, he made sure to destroy Snake's previous private army: MSF, Militaires Sans Frontières. His memory of the Diamond Dogs' predecessor could be spotty in places, but the sorrow of losing his comrades to Skull Face's designs was forever burnt into him.

Even after having carried out their revenge, Snake’s pain hadn’t lessened. He figured Skull Face leaving this world would allow him to heal. It didn't.

Paz had been a victim too. One that miraculously returned from the certain death he and his comrades had assumed was her fate.

“Let's discuss the Cipher situation later, Kaz. Right now, Paz being alive here and now is more important to me.”

“...Yeah, same here,” Kaz finally answered, but he was still clearly frayed. “Namely, can we even say for certain this person is Paz?”

Paz blinked, most likely in confusion. “Come again?”

“Are we sure this isn't just some Cipher spy made to _look_ like her so she can pretend to be Paz and cause discord among our ranks? I'm talking body double-” he cast a disdainful glance at the wheelchair-bound woman before pointing his finger at her with a violent motion, “-what if this is merely some **phantom**?”

For some reason, that insane assertion made Snake's head ache terribly. Could that sort of crazy talk, without a hint of irony, cause physical discomfort by way of excessive second-hand embarrassment?

Quiet clicked her tongue – a sound she had resorted to in recent months when she wanted others to direct their attention to her. True enough, she soon had a captive audience. Pointing at her temple, she encircled it with her finger, rolling her eyes at the same time. Without saying a word, she was calling Kaz cuckoo.

“Sh-shut up! You know it's a valid concern!” Kaz stammered, flustered.

Ladies and gentlemen: Snake's executive officer.

Quiet simply raised an eyebrow at Kazuhira Miller, accompanied with a sly, cheeky grin.

As that little scene unfolded, Snake made a mental note that he really, _really_ needed to figure how those two went from getting along like cats and dogs to bantering like pals. Especially when one of them was essentially mute.

Paz, whose eyes had been wide like saucers at Kaz's accusation, giggled spiritedly, covering her mouth coquettishly with splayed fingers. Once her little laughing fit subsided and breath returned to her, she spoke: “Wow, Kaz! Didn't know you were going for comedian these days!”

Ocelot, still leaning against his little corner, grunted dismissively. “Yeah, real funny joke there...”

Paz exhaled before talking again. “Sorry to disappoint, Kaz, but I'm very much the genuine article. I could even sing our song to prove it to you.”

“Huh, you mean _Love Deterrence_?” Kaz scratched at his beard. “That sure brings me back.”

“I was supposed to sing at Peace Day...” Paz reminisced longingly. “But you all know what happened back then – well, except maybe you, miss – but you know, maybe this year?”

“That'd be nice, actually,” said Snake. “We were so busy with XOF we haven't done anything like the celebrations we used to have back in the MSF days. What do you say, Kaz?” he elbowed his officer as he gestured with his chin, “Don't you think we should organize some R&R?”

“Sounds like a fine way to boost troop morale,” Ocelot chimed in.

Kaz’s dourness abated and he allowed himself to chuckle. “Yeah, you know what? Maybe that Spike kid is right and we're really wound up too tight these days. Let's plan something nice for the boys and girls.”

“Oh, oh! You're not leaving me out of this one, are you? I'll make _gallo pinto_ like that one time!” Paz declared excitedly.

“Yeah, like back with...Amanda...” the glee Kaz had quickly gotten drunken on vanished just as swiftly. Everyone but Quiet quickly knew why.

“Chico...” Paz voiced in little more than a whisper.

Chico Valenciano Libre. The younger brother of their comrade, Amanda, a woman who inherited command of Nicaraguan revolutionaries from her deceased father. Chico had been smitten by Paz, who at the time posed as a young schoolgirl, when in truth she was actually a very much adult Cipher operative. Paz’s deception coming to light did little to dissuade Chico’s feelings, however.

The night MSF fell, Snake was away on a mission – to rescue Chico from an U.S. detention facility in Cuban soil: Camp Omega, where he was held by Skull Face. Chico had been captured in his own attempt to snatch Paz away from Skull Face's clutches, thinking no one else in MSF would've gone to her aid.

Chico had been wrong – evidence had been found of Paz's wavering convictions towards Cipher, her admiration of Snake, and her love for her new MSF family in the form of an audio diary. Had Snake known of Paz's whereabouts before Chico did, he would've gone to the rescue anyways.

Snake had been able to get both Chico and Paz out, but they arrived to a Mother Base set ablaze...and shortly thereafter, escaping with Kaz in tow, the explosion that put Snake into a coma for nine years followed. Their transport went down, and Chico died in the crash.

A little more than thirteen when he died...barely a teenager.

But now, with Paz alive across from him, the little soldier boy's death no longer seemed senseless.

“His death wasn't in vain, Paz. You being here is proof of that. I'm glad you're alive.”

Paz, for her part, nodded slowly while avoiding Snake's warm gaze. “I wish I could have told you sooner,” she said.

“So why didn't you?” Snake asked.

Paz had to smile bitterly at that before caressing her belly absentmindedly, where a bomb once had been planted in her insides. “What better way to stay safely hidden than to let the world think you dead?”

 

* * *

A melancholic tune floated in the sea breeze.

Eli's legs dangled from the edge of the platform, kicking at air as he blew into his harmonica. The sun was setting across the horizon, painting the ocean orange in its fading splendor.

This particular spot, tucked on the edge of the Command Platform, had become Eli's favorite place to reflect by his lonesome - and after that charged conversation from earlier, thinking was exactly what Eli needed to do. There was also the woman from Cipher who'd arrived earlier, the one in the wheelchair. The boy was not particularly fond of his previous handlers.

Uncertainty looming over him like a hunter stalking prey, he channeled that turmoil into the instrument. He'd learned to play thanks to one of the friendlier Dogs, and the boy once known as the White Mamba had found it therapeutic.

It was nice to create something for a change, even if fleeting, rather than destroy as he'd been meant to, he once thought.

He'd paused a moment to catch his breath when he heard clapping from behind.

"You're quite talented, you know?" a sweet voice, almost sickeningly so, said. The boy shifted to peer over his shoulder. How come he hadn't noticed her approach? Perhaps too engrossed in his piece, he had ignored the woman's encroachment.

"...Thanks, I guess," he replied, unsure of how to deal with the visitor. She wheeled herself next to him, causing him to frown slightly. If she noticed the flash of displeasure in the child's countenance, she made no indication of it: "Have you been playing for long?"

He shrugged. "No. Few weeks at most".

"Yes, I suppose that when you were under Cipher's care, they wouldn't let you take up a pastime like this...I'm sorry. I didn't know and even if I did, I couldn’t have done anything. I only gained a position of power recently".

Eli quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he feigned ignorance.

"Oh, I don't know. You tell me," she leaned towards at the boy. "You did a pretty good job eavesdropping on our little meeting earlier, but Snake made sure to let us know you were snooping around!"

Eli made a small, worried grunt. I'm going to be in trouble, he thought.

The wheelchair-bound lady gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll have you know he was actually very pleased at your ability to conceal yourself. He looked quite proud!"

The boy's guard practically evaporated. "Really?"

"Yes! He let us know as soon as you were outside earshot. Don't tell him I told you, though!"

"No way..." Eli said. "Why would he..."

"I've heard your relationship is...complicated," Paz interrupted. "However, I can tell that he's grown to care a great deal about you. You probably already knew that, though".

Eli let go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "...Yeah. He wouldn't have taken me and Tretij in otherwise. He's done a lot for Tretij, too".

Paz nodded before changing the subject. "Do you feel at home here?"

The question caught Eli flat-footed. "Home? ...I guess? I mean, I wouldn't know how that feels. Nothing to compare it to".

"You know...way back in the day, I didn't realize it, but my 'home' was with Snake and the others. I ruined that, though," Paz closed her eyes, deep in thought, swimming through her precious memories. "I only came to see it that way after I'd already gone past the point of no return. All I'm saying is..." when they opened once more, they were watery and wavered in the dusk light. "...enjoy it while you can, all right?"

"While I can...?" Eli parroted, perplexed.

"Sorry, that came across as ominous, didn't it?" Paz smiled warmly, although her expression carried a tinge of sorrow. "It's just my heartfelt wish that you wouldn't make the same mistakes as me".

"Well, I'm not planning on going anywhere, or scheming anything. I like it here," Eli admitted, fidgeting with the instrument in his hands.

Paz sighed softly. "If only we could stop time..." The salty ocean winds played with her curly strands, and Eli found himself captivated, gazing at her unreadable countenance.

"...ey, Eli! Eeeee-li!"

"W-wha?!" Eli shot awake from his fugue. "T-Tretij?"

"Are you okay? You looked like you'd spaced out!" the redhead said.

Eli's face flushed. "I...I was just thinking! Wait, when did you get here?!"

"Just now. Is something wrong? Your face is all red..." Tretij asked.

"...Ah, can it, freckles!"

 Tretij's shoulders slumped. "Did I say something bad?"

Paz giggled at the unfolding one-sided argument. "Somehow, this is nostalgic...Tretij and Eli, was it? I haven't introduced myself properly yet. I'm Pacifica Ocean, but call me Paz."

"Hi, Paz!" Tretij chirped happily, waving both of his hands. Eli, for his part, mumbled something like "yeah, okay" while avoiding eye contact, clearly attempting to be dismissive and failing miserably at it.

Once more, Paz tittered mirthfully. "I will be leaving you now. It seems someone needs to talk to you." She gestured at an approaching Snake before depressing a lever on her armrest, causing an electric motor to lowly hum. 

"Snake."

"Paz," the Boss greeted back before closing the distance between him and the children. "Hey boys. You were talking to Paz?"

"She's nice!" Tretij answered. "Although...Eli's face got all red around her for some reason..."

"TRETIJ!" Eli blurted out, exasperated.

"Oh boy..." Snake brought a gloved hand to his face and then shook his head, hiding a grin. "Not this again..."

"A-anyways, how can you say she's nice?" Eli rebounded, swiftly attempting to change the subject. "You barely talked to her."

"Well, she seems nice, so she must be nice!"

"...Seriously?" Eli slumped. "Geez, guess you're always gonna need me to stick with you. Someone could easily take advantage of you."

 "Actually, that reminds me," Snake interrupted. "I wanted to ask you two. How do you boys like it here?"

Eli was sincerely taken aback by the suddenness of the question, and from the look of things, he wasn't the only one. Tretij visibly shrunk at the lack for an answer. Eli didn't need to be a psychic like his red-headed friend to know why: it was just difficult to put it to words.

This shelter, this warmth...

It was something neither of them had known until they came here and decided they would stop pushing away anybody who tried to get close.

Like everyone in Mother Base...

"...It's home," Eli finally spoke. "I know I was...difficult at first, but I've come to realize...this is the first place that I can really call that."

"Y-yeah," Tretij nodded weakly. "I didn't even know I was missing something so important...I like it here. I really like it here."

Eli nodded. "Thanks for bringing us on board, Boss."

Snake beamed warmly. "That so... well, I'm glad to hear it. Paz returning put some things into perspective."

Tretij cocked his head questioningly. Snake, in turn, took it as a cue to continue. "Adults don't have the answers to everything," the bearded man crossed his arms as he let loose a low chuckle. "You never stop learning, boys."

"O...kay?" It was Eli's turn to be confused by the commander's words. Nonetheless, he was curious. "So what is it? What did you find out?"

Snake shook his head, a knowing grin on his face. "The time to live is now. You'll see what I mean soon enough."

Suspicions crawled within Eli's mind, but ultimately, the boy decided he wouldn't voice them. If it was what he thought, he'd receive confirmation soon enough. "Looking forward to it, old man."

 

* * *

Eli's suspicions came true a scant few days later.

The usually lively nocturnal bustle of the Command Platform was replaced with expectant silence nobody would dare infringe.

The reason would be immediately apparent to any newcomers.

A diamond glimmered ethereally in pale moonlight, the only choice that could have ever been made for a stone...

 ...embedded in a band of white gold...

...offered by Big Boss, on one knee, to a stunned Quiet.

Eli never thought she could make such an expression, but there she stood, petrified, eyes wide and welling. Her hands had come up to her mouth, trying to stifle a gasp that had already long since escaped.

Everybody knew the words their beloved Boss would say next: "Quiet, will you marry me?"

But no one expected a soft voice to utter "...Yes."

 

* * *

 

Butterfly Effect ///// Chapter 5 [Laplace's Demon]

 

* * *

Spike Ingram knew things.

Some he'd learned during his short life, but there were things he had no business knowing. Things that should be impossible for him to know. Not just information that was safely hidden away from the masses by governments and other powerful organizations, but also awareness of events yet to happen.

For example: 'Apple Computer will release a commercial based in George Orwell's novel, 1984, during the Super Bowl'. He had no contacts within the company - it was as if he'd just watched it before. Déjà vu was common to him. 

It extended to technical knowledge, too. He'd never studied any programming, yet his proficiency at coding was without question. C++ had been released just last year and he was familiar with all there was to it, alongside with the upcoming changes in version 2.0...which wasn't going to be released until 1989.

Languages? He could speak all. That wasn't an exaggeration or brag. 

It wasn't as if he had an infallible future vision, though. Many of the things he was aware 'should happen' ended up not happening at all. Rather, it was as if his mind held a repository of 'possible' information. If it was applicable, it was factually correct to the smallest detail.

It wasn't omniscience, either. With some fields, like biology, he only knew what he'd learned in the orphanage.

It was as if his mind was a library, with copies of books yet unwritten, yet some of its sections were lacking in reference material. 

Spike Ingram named this phenomenon "Cognition Alexandria". He was fond of cheesy names like those, thanks to animated series he was fond of, even if they hadn't been conceived yet.

(He felt someone would call him out for suffering "eight-grade syndrome", whatever that was.)

It made him an unparalleled engineer, talented gunsmith, and peerless developer. Despite his youth and recent admission into the Diamond Dogs, there had been no objections when he was appointed Chief of the R&D Unit.

"It's only natural," one of his new underlings had said. "He's a genius, after all."

Spike couldn't disagree more.

A genius still had to learn, like everyone else. He just woke up one chilly winter morning with several hundred university degrees worth of concepts residing within his consciousness and a need to seek out Big Boss, joining his private army shortly thereafter. 

Cognition Alexandria, his dirty little secret, had guided him to Snake’s ranks. Now, it guided him to stand in front of a certain cylindrical monolith.

Spike's palm made contact with the surface of the Mammal Pod, feeling the coolness of sturdy metal. That unremarkable sensation carried pangs of uneasiness with it and he couldn't tell why.

He knew the truth behind The Boss' defection to the Soviet Union and her subsequent death thanks to his ability. He knew this pseudo-sentient monument to the Mother of the Special Forces had become a coffin to its creator, her life cruelly cut short by betrayal. Yet, he was sure neither of those were the reason he felt anxiousness creeping in.

It was as if he was in the verge of remembering something he didn't want to.

"I didn't expect to see you here."

"...!"

Spike turned around with a gasp towards the owner of the feminine, accented voice.

The sight of a woman confined to a wheelchair confronted him. Paz Ortega Andrade, Pacifica Ocean, whatever her name was - the story her eyes sang froze him in place, for theirs was a ballad of sadness, longing, and understanding.

Something gnawed at the back of his skull. He could tell the words she had just voiced carried some hidden meaning. That wrongness from before washed over his senses.

"W-what do you mean?" he stammered out, cold sweat trickling down his temples.                                                                                                

The blonde shook her head with deliberate gentleness. "You and I both know I don't need to explain."

Spike shuddered. This woman was dangerous. 

After a pregnant pause, he pointed at his skull and spoke. "Is my situation Cipher's doing?"

"No. That is entirely your own."

Her response hit him like a bucket of freezing water. His body tensed.

She knew of Cognitive Alexandria...!

It had been a shot in the dark, meant to confuse her and seize the initiative in their conversation. Instead…

"Who the hell...what the hell are you?!"

His outburst didn't faze her in the slightest. Cocking her head ever-so-slightly, she presented a small smile. "Aren't you making that question to the wrong person?"

Breath caught in his throat.

She was right. A person who knew everything would think they’d never need introspection.

Despite all that incredible knowledge, Spike Ingram had a surprising lack of self-awareness.

So then…who was he?

What was he?

He asked himself.

Maybe he was a dragon.

At the end of his limbs were not hands, but claws meant to rend open a path to the future. He admired them peacefully as the last of his blood seeped out, comforted by this world's enduring innocence. 

Maybe he was a guardian.

He never thought his feet would plant themselves on the red soil of Mars, but war brought them there. The last of his men filtered out of the Avenger spacecraft. It was time for their assault on Cydonia. For the sake of every living being on Earth, they would succeed. He was willing to pay any price.

Maybe he was a soldier.

He was a proud man of Zeon. Even so, he wouldn't be blinded by honor. This was bigger than their enmity with the Feddies. Metal joints shrieked in grating protest as he pushed the control lever forwards with what little strength his battered muscles had left. 

Maybe he was a survivor.

Soon, he would be one of the shambling hordes blotting the streets of the fallen Raccoon City. It was inevitable - he was infected. All he could do was buy Rebecca some time. His Samurai Edge still had some rounds left in the magazine. He unlocks the door to the outside, and it opens ever so slowly, its creaking heralding his fate.

Maybe he was a spy.

Gunfire chased after his fleeing figure. Holding the envelope with classified documents close to his chest, he took a leap of faith bordering on the insane. At any cost, he had to get this information to the Allies! If his body had to break to achieve that, then so be it!

Maybe he was a knight.

The imposing armored form smolders with hatred, towering over him. Yet, no matter how much his opponent dwarfed him, he would not be deterred. Clutching his blade in white knuckles and gritting his teeth violently, he lunged at his gargantuan foe.

Maybe he was ashes.

Garma's palm propped his fallen form upright. Soon, he would perish once more. His comrades screamed, some shouting battle cries, others calling out for a medic. He wanted to tell them to focus on the fight. He'd died enough times to know when his wounds were something he could come back from. Yet, the words wouldn't come out - he just didn't have the strength to speak anymore. As the world went dark, he wondered...

Would he become a diamond?

Two soft hands cup around his cheeks, rescuing him from memories of a hundred thousand lives. Once again, he was standing in the shadow of the Mammal Pod, his face now stained with tears. A longing for pasts left behind, friends never to be seen again, and homes that had returned to dust filled his very being.

Of course.

It all made sense now. What he knew, he had to have learned somewhere. _Ex nihilo nihil fit_.

"You were decoherent," Paz utters, having risen to stand on supposedly useless legs. If Spike was at all surprised, he didn't show it. Instead, he basks in nostalgia. Her warm gaze reminded him of someone precious. "I'm sorry for pushing this on you."

Her hands left him, and he swiped away the wetness with his forearm. "I'm used to it. Besides, this is the first time we meet. You shouldn't fret about inconveniencing strangers so much," his voice was cool, collected; it hinted to a will and mind of steel.

"You're a friend of Alan's, though," Paz retorted. "That's enough reason for me to care."

"...So you say, but you were more concerned with whatever hindrance I could become for your designs, weren't you?"

"…Don't be so cynical."

He gave her a sardonic grin. "I have no intention of mouthing off to Alan, but I'm keeping my eye on you."

"Is that so? Then perhaps you can help me a little. No better way to watch over me, is there?" Paz said.

"Hey, hey... I'm not sure I want to become your gofer, lady."

Paz shook her head. "I just want you to know nothing I'm doing is for my own sake. It's all for him."

The stillness of the light was punctured by a wisp streaking upwards. High in the sky, and with a thunderous boom, it bloomed into a flower of fire, illuminating the dark.

It was followed by more colorful wisps, each of them blossoming just as loudly.

"Fireworks..." Spike muttered. "Why?"

Paz didn't answer immediately. "…I see, so he must have..." she mused pensively.

They remained still, watching the spectacle for quite some time, before Spike turned his head towards the petite woman. "...You say you're doing this for Snake's sake, right? I'll be the judge of that. Tell me what you want me to do."

Instead of giving him instructions, Paz handed him a rectangular, plastic object.

It made him freeze. 

"T-this is...!"

He didn't notice when Paz said she'd leave the decision to him. He didn't realize when she sat down on her wheelchair and left. He could no longer hear the festive explosives, or feel the coolness of the sea breeze.

As far as he was concerned, the only thing that existed in the world was the tape held in his trembling grip, its title scrawled across its label.

'From the Man Who Sold the World'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kept you waiting, huh?
> 
> Once again, I took almost a year to update, even when I said I wouldn't take so long. In my defense, working a full-time job is both exhausting and leaves you with very little time for anything else.
> 
> Granted, I've written other things in the meantime, but this story is harder to work on by virtue of being rather plot-heavy, while most of the other things I've published are rather whimsical.
> 
> Speaking of, we've finally reached the turning point. I hope Original the Character didn't turn you off at the end there. I hope you trust me enough to keep reading and don't expect me to drive this bus into an ocean of bad.
> 
> That is to say, there is a good reason why that plot point was implemented. And no, I'm not writing these as I go along - I'm sticking to the original plot outline till the end.
> 
> Oh, and to save you a Google search - ex nihilo nihil fit translates to “out of nothing, nothing comes”.
> 
> Lastly, as a little aside: the character I consider the true protagonist of this story is not whom you'd expect (and no, it isn't Spike). I hope that piques your interest a little.
> 
> I'm not going to say I'm going to update soon, even if I hope to - because chances are that if I don't say it, the update might come faster (how logical, Captain). That said, this story will be completed (eventually). It’s a promise that I will stick to at any cost.
> 
> So with that in mind, see ya when I see ya.


	6. Superposition

Quiet wasn't all that more talkative than Kaz imagined. She was a woman of few words, now that she could vocalize. Her moniker still checked out.

He couldn't help but think that she was a good fit for the Boss, with how taciturn he'd become after the accident that'd left him in a coma.

Every once in a while, Kaz would wonder if the shrapnel embedded to Snake's skull led to those little changes in personality that only someone close to him would notice.

Not too long ago, he'd watched a documentary on a man named Phineas Gage. A construction worker in 19th Century America, he was impaled through his head by an iron rod in a workplace accident. It destroyed most of his brain's left frontal lobe, but he miraculously survived. It was said that his personality shifted in such ways, friends claimed he was no longer the person they once knew.

Granted, Snake's cephalic injury wasn't as dramatic or extensive, but it was enough to make Kaz think.

Something - perhaps intuition - told him that wasn't the case.

He was dwelling too much on it. Anybody who'd gone through Snake's circumstances would be a changed man once they woke, both physically and mentally. It took Kaz some time to get used to Snake's voice, no longer as gravelly as it once was. Nine years without a smoke will do that to you, Snake had said.

Besides, Kaz had become a very different person himself, for better or worse. Definitely worse at first. Consumed by anger and revenge, lashing out at the world for his own mistakes... He was still quite temperamental, but he tried to keep his emotions in check. He hated Cipher, but he knew part of that was because of his cooperation with the organization in the past. Anger not only at them, but at himself as well.

That self-awareness kept him somewhat centered. If it wasn't for that introspection, there was no way he could have ever accepted Quiet as one of their own. Thinking back, maybe it was because they're similar - played like pawns by the powers that be, enduring the pain of mangled bodies, shackled by former ties to Cipher, and yet holding undying loyalty and love towards the Boss.

Speaking of, she was glancing out the bulletproof glass walling Kazuhira Miller's Command Platform office, feigning disinterest.

Located atop an acrylic staircase, it overlooked the Diamond Dogs' Command Center, a cutting-edge technological facility where their global operations were coordinated and supported remotely. Despite his handicaps, Kaz refused to relocate his workspace - it gave him a perfect view of the technical and logistics staff manning their posts and moving to and fro. If someone was slacking off, he'd know. He was _Master_ Miller for a reason.

The would-be tyrant glanced at the assortment of confectionary samples littering his mahogany desk, then back to Quiet.

"Two things," Kaz begun. "First, I'm not even going to ask how you carried all of these up here. Second, you do realize I got a preference, right?" he said, pointing at a small square of strawberry cheesecake.

She didn't say anything, true to her name once more, nor did she turn towards him.

"Hmm. Could it be that you're embarassed?" he asked.

She shook her head frantically but would still not face him. That pretty much answered his question. Shrugging and grinning smugly to himself, he then took a tiny plastic spoon and had a taste of the samples.

"Yup. Strawberry Cheesecake. Velvet Chocolate Cheesecake's great as well."

"...You really do have a one-track mind, don't you? It's either burgers or cheesecake with you," Quiet retorted.

"Oh, she speaks!" Kaz mock-exclaimed. "Hey, I'll have you know, I like burgers but those are more of a business endeavor. But cheesecake? I could kill for cheesecake."

"I've noticed."

"Your disdain is much appreciated."

"Why do you love it so much, anyways?" Quiet decided to ask. "Don't you get tired of it?"

"Nope. As for why I like it, hell if I know. It's not just the flavor. Makes me... sentimental, I guess?"

"Sentimental?"

"I can't really explain it, but whenever I have it, it makes me think that's what's happiness tastes like."

"Huh."

"Strange, isn't it?"

"Food might be your true calling. Thought about hosting a cooking show?" Quiet joked.

"I can see it now. 'Hell Master's Kitchen'."

"It'd flop quite spectacularly," Quiet bantered wryly.

"You know, I was joking, but now I'm going to have to do it just to make you eat those words."

Laughter immediately followed.

"So, Quiet," when the chuckles finally subsided, Kaz spoke, "any relatives or friends you'd like us to bring in for the wedding?"

Quiet shook her head. "Only my grandmother. She's gone now."

"I'm sorry."

Quiet shook her head once more, now facing the Diamond Dogs' XO. "It was a long time ago."

"What sort of person was she?" Kaz asked, genuinely curious.

Quiet smiled a little. "Quite stoic and no-nonsense, yet always loving and supportive, if a little rough around the edges." She sighed. "I miss her frybread."

"Want to go on a trip down memory lane?"

"Not really..."

Kaz's expression became solemn. "Touchy subject?"

"...The days I lived in the Navajo Nation aren't, but what came afterwards..."

"Wait," Kaz interrupted. "You're Native American?"

"Grandmother."

"Oh."

"...We were poor, but I had a reputation as a particularly good tracker and hunter among people that excel at those. So I was scouted"...

"...by XOF." Kaz finished.

"Money was tight, and _análí_ was sick. I didn't think twice to accept their offer. _Análí_ didn't last much longer, but by that time, there was no going back."

"...Do you regret it?" Kaz asked, in almost a whisper.

"Becoming XOF's butcher? Yes. But what came afterwards, no. These are probably the best days I've ever lived."

Kaz stared to the side. "Everyone gave you a hard time when the Boss first brought you in, myself included. I apologize."

Quiet shrugged. "Eh, I've always been used to being an outsider."

"You and I are more alike than I thought," Kaz said.

"I'm not sure that's a compliment."

"Shush," said Kaz before he sampled another delicacy. "Hey, this sponge cake is also pretty good. What was it called again?"

 

* * *

" _Tres leches_?!"

Spike Ingram, Rampant Dragon, was not expecting dessert when Pacifica Ocean asked to meet him. He'd found it pretty odd that she'd summon him to a kitchen module, sure, but presumed it'd be for privacy's sake.

"You know of it?" A red-headed boy tugged at the sleeve of the fatigue jacket he always wrapped around his waist.

That presumption was thrown out the window when he saw both Tretij and Eli accompanying the woman, both of the boys wearing aprons that had clearly seen some action, what with them being caked in flour and all.

"You kidding, Trey?" Spike replied excitedly. "I freaking love it! Ohhhhhh man, it's been far too long!"

Eli crossed his arms wordlessly and glared at Spike, looking sour, grumbling something the rest couldn't hear.

"Eh? You say somethin'?" Spike asked.

Paz giggled. "The happy couple's trying to choose cakes for the wedding reception, so I thought to make my own suggestion. It's a little hard to do everything by myself when I can't walk, though."

Can't walk. Happy couple. Those words brought him back to the confrontation from the other night. The burden she'd left for him to carry was far too heavy, even for him.

Under the circumstances he was familiar with, Venom Snake would learn of his role as 'Big Boss's Phantom' in Outer Heaven.

Holding onto nothing, being nothing, and feeling nothing, he would face off against Solid Snake. Hesitation would cloud him and what should be an easy victory would become an even match Venom would lose.

'Venom Snake' would die, and...

Spike did his best not to show he was troubled.

"That so?" he said absentmindedly, focusing on keeping his expression neutral.

"We made a little too much, though, so I thought you might want some?" Paz followed.

"So how do you two know each other?" Eli interjected.

Now there's a person who doesn't know how to keep their poker face on, Spike thought. So that's how it was. Kids can be a handful, he mentally added.

"Guess you could say I'm the poor schmuck _Hot Wheels_ over there wants a favor from, so now she's trying to butter me up," Spike sharply, smugly smirked.

Tretij puffed his cheek. "Spike! Don't bully!"

Spike shrugged conceitedly and shook his head. "We're acquaintanced. For better or worse."

It was Paz's turn to smirk. "So I take you won't want any cake?"

"Nah, I'm still having it," he opened the nearby fridge, digging through its contents and finally producing a set of dark-colored cans. "Besides, I wanna crack open a cold one with the boys."

"...It feels like you just made a joke that went right over our heads," Paz said as she accepted the can of D-Cola that Spike offered.

"You're living in 1984, I'm living in 2084."

Paz rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say."

 

* * *

Was he floating?

Everything was submerged in haze.

Where was he?

When was this?

Even his own identity was unclear. He felt more like a spectator, disinterested in his fate.

Was he staring at a ceiling? He couldn't even be sure he was laying supine. Such was the addlement of his senses.

He heard voices. Talking. He tried to focus on them. Tried to make out what they're saying.

Even if he lost himself, he wanted to understand.

"...rac Zero has been secured and awaiting study, per your request." The voice was female. Monotone. Complete and utter disinterest characterized her inflection.

"Good." The second voice was male, and it was grating. There was an uncanny quality to it, as if...as if it was _not the sort of voice that should belong to a human being_. "Now our labor to bear fruit."

"What will we do with the sample?" the female voice asked.

Was she referring to him? Her inflection would make one think she was referring to a _thing_ rather than a _person_.

"He can still prove to be of use," the male voice answered. "Put him back in."

 

* * *

"Hey, Spike! Still with us?"

He couldn't give Eli an answer. His mind was far too busy swimming in an explosion of absolute delight.

Sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. A consistency akin to the fluffiest of clouds. The perfect dessert, even surpassing the glory of cinnamon rolls in Spike's eyes... That is _Tres Leches_! A true miracle of the universe!

"...I think we lost him," Eli sighed.

"Eli, do you think that will happen to us too...?" Tretij asked, eyeing his slice. The children hadn't had a chance to taste what was partly their creation, and Tretij was finding himself growing increasingly nervous.

"Nah, Spike's just an idiot."

"Don't bully!"

Eli chuckled. "Okay, sorry. Sorry. Let's dig in, shall w-Trey?!"

Tretij Rebenok was transfixed, spoon was sticking out of his mouth.

"...Oh, come on!"

Paz simply giggled some more.

Such was the scene Snake stumbled upon.

"W-what's going on here?" the commander of the Diamond Dogs asked from the doorway to the module.

Eli slumped. "I wish I knew that myself!"

"Boss...the world is filled with amazing things..!" Tretij breathed, drowning in absolute euphoria.

"O...kay?" Frankly, Snake didn't know how respond to that. "Anyways, boys, when you're done, can I, uh, have a minute?"

It took a while for that to happen, what with Spike and Tretij marveling at every bite they took, but eventually the children left somewhere with Snake, leaving Paz and Spike by themselves.

"You've got quite the sweet tooth," Paz said once they were finally alone.

"A daring assumption," Spike answered, mock-pompousness in his voice. "Whatever may have led you to that conclusion?"

"There's always a box of donuts on your workdesk."

"My, aren't you the world's greatest detective," he crossed his arms. "So."

"So."

Awkward silence hung heavy in the air. Neither of them wished to say the first word.

"...Hell of a bombshell you decided to drop on me, huh?" Spike eventually conceded.

"I know it's a lot to take in, even for you..."

"Understatement of the century."

"But it's not a decision I could make myself," Paz finished, staring off to the side.

"Yet I can, huh?" Spike pinched the bridge of his nose. "Listen, lady. I know you know who am I. I have no idea what the hell is up with you and I've been around the block long enough to know I won't be getting a straight answer out of you. But way I see it, you want me to be responsible for ruining Alan's happiness."

"That's not it..."

"Hello, honey?" Spike mimicked the depth of Snake's voice. "Turns out I'm not really the person we all thought I was. Hope this doesn't-" he switched back to his normal intonation and glared at Paz, "-strain our relationship right before we get married!"

"...so you'd rather they solidify their union without knowing first?" Paz met his accusatory glare with one of her own.

"Yes! ...I mean no!" Spike quickly corrected himself. "I mean...arghhhhhh!" he threw his hands up in frustration. "Wish I hadn't remembered there were two Big Bosses running around."

"I'm grateful you did," Paz said. "I would've been incapable of making the decision on my own."

"Why, exactly? Those legs of yours still ought to work."

"I have my reasons."

"Ooh, cryptic. Totally didn't see that one coming," Spike muttered, exhasperated.

Paz shrugged and sighed, "You wish you hadn't remembered, I wish I didn't have to rely on the help of a smartass."

"Oh, hey," Spike smirked. "Miss goody two-shoes has some bite, after all. Whodathunk?"

Paz frowned, her lips forming a line straight as straight can be. "See? THIS is what I mean."

"I gotta get back to you somehow."

"That irreverence is going to get you killed someday."

Spike flashed another smirk so sharp it could cut through anything. "Already has. Several times. Didn't take."

"Do you have a witty retort for everything?" Paz's patience was starting to run thin.

"No, I have two. Three, if it's a Tuesday night."  
  
Paz brought her palm to her face and slid it down towards her chin. "...You're insufferable, Spike Ingram."

"I think you mean 'irresistible'."

"In your dreams." Paz raised an eyebrow. "Wait a second...is this your way of flirting?"

"Pfffft." Spike scoffed. "You want a piece of me? Sorry, the odds are not 'stacked' in your favor."

"...Okay, I'll admit," Paz droned monotone, clearly peeved. "Getting under my skin in hopes I would let something slip is a clever ploy, but one that isn't going to work."

Spike sneered. Caught red-handed. So much for shifting the momentum of the conversation to his favor. "Just amusing myself a little at your expense. You owe me that much."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"Ah, well. I do feel a lot better after all that," Spike shrugged.

"So you feel good when you bully vulnerable girls. My, how objectionable."

"If there's one thing I can tell about you, it's that you're anything but vulnerable."

"Ooh, he's learning," Paz shot back.

"Okay, okay, I'll concede, just to speed things up," Spike waved his hand dismissively. "So let me just ask you: what's your endgame here?" If indirect methods weren't working, Spike mused, he might as well try and ask flat out.

"Same as you. I want Alan to be happy here. That's all."

Something in the conviction behind those words reassured him Paz was true, for once.

Spike turned her back to her, facing the doorway. "Should've just asked for advice instead of delegating."

"Again, I couldn't do it," Paz insisted. "This is something I need you to choose."

He stared at the woman from over his shoulder. "Keep telling yourself that. As for me, I got some thinking to do."

After the electronic door slid closed behind him, Paz let out a long, dejected sigh.

"If only you knew" Paz words were lost to any and all ears, "that the choice has already been made."

 

* * *

Venom Snake may be seen by others as a paragon of stoicism and cool, but this didn't mean the living legend was exempt from nerves.

He was only human. He knew fear and anxiousness just like anyone else.

The difference is how he dealt with those jitters.

When faced with anxiousness, most people would prove hesistant or maybe even find themselves paralyzed. Some would even choose flight if the situation proved to be dire enough. But in Snake, they triggered his fight instead. He turned those emotions into drive, resolution, focus. Fuel to burn.

If he fled from battle, it'd be but a mean to ultimately achieve victory. That was the sort of person he was.

This time, it was no different, but now he was harnessing that quality outside the battlefield in a far different context. One so alien to him, he threatened to regress to a normal person's instinctual responses.

But he wouldn't allow it to come to that, he'd decided. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Eli," he steeled himself and turned towards the two boys he'd fetched just a few minutes ago. He'd taken them to a sleepy spot on the Support Platform next to some containers, frequented by that very boy and his inseparable companion.

"What is it, Boss? Why did we come all the way here?"

Snake grinned. "Isn't this your spot?"

The Diamond Dogs on patrol did not frequent this side of the platform much, content to give the two boys their own space. This made it the perfect place to speak to them in private.

"Yeah, but we could've talked anywhere," Eli refuted.

"Not about this."  
  
"...I'm listening," Eli said. Tretij gave a small nod, for his part.

"Remember how I told you I couldn't call myself your father, back when you returned to Mother Base for good?"

"...Yeah," Eli muttered. "Getting used to calling you 'Boss' took some effort."

"But I also said I wanted you to be happy, right?"

Eli's lips curled into a small smile, one he didn't even realize he was wearing. "Of course. I wouldn't forget that part."

"Neither could I!" Tretij interjected innocently. It was Snake's turn to grin unaware, now. However, it was gone as quickly as it came.

"There was something I didn't tell you then, though," Snake crossed his arms with a frown. "Something I perhaps should've."

Eli held his breath. Whatever was coming sounded heavy.

"When you first came here, with all the other kids," Snake begun, locking eyes with the young lad, "I had a DNA test done. You and I, kid...we didn't match."

"...Oh."

All Eli could muster was saying that in the smallest voice imaginable.

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner," Snake said, anguished.

"...So...I wasn't made to be the perfect soldier, huh...? Has my whole life been a lie...?"

"It hasn't!"

Tretij - that very same soft-spoken Tretij - objected. Loudly.

"Our lives here haven't been a lie, have they?!" Tretij continued. "Before we came here, I didn't know what it was to be alive! To be a person!"

"Trey..." Eli uttered.

"Because of how we were born, you and I were seen as just tools, Eli. But not here! Don't you see? Despite all the sadness, all the hardship..."

Tretij stretched his arms wide, as if he wanted to embrace the horizon, everything that is and once was.

"This world is a wonderful place, and I'm happy we get to live in it!"

Eli let out a small huff as the corners of his lips curved upwards ever so slightly. "That's one way to look at it. Trey, you're just full of surprises."

The redhead gave his friend a sheepish grin. "Being able to help you with my words rather than my powers feels nice!"

Snake placed his hand atop Tretij's head and ruffled his hair a little. The boy, in turn, beamed.

"There's a reason I'm telling you this, aside from you having the right to know," Snake said, his palm abandoning the mass of red-orange tangles. "I needed you to know. Quiet and I are getting married. We've talked about it, and..."

The blond boy froze.

"Eli, we want to formally adopt you."

Something Eli had perhaps never known began to well in his eyes.

"I don't care if we share blood or not," Snake continued, but not before giving Eli's shoulder a squeeze. "I want to be part of your life, and for you to be part of mine. Not because of your genes, but because of who you are."

"B-bo-" Eli stammered, his body trembling.

"It's okay. No need to call me that anymore."

"...D **-DAD!!!** " Eli exploded, and for the first time in his life, the child wrapped his arms around someone else and allowed himself to be well and truly vulnerable. Snake's fatigues soaked in tears, as the boy pressed his face against his chest. Snake wordlessly returned the gesture, cradling the boy in his arms, one flesh and one mechanical.

"Tretij," Snake turned to the other boy, whose expression was awash mostly with relief, but also hid a tinge of longing. "I had to get that out of the way first, but I wouldn't have asked you to be here too if I didn't wish to give you the choice, too."

"Y-you mean...?!" Tretij's eyes widened.

Snake nodded. "Only if you want. Would you like to be our son, too?"

" **YES!** " Tretij leapt at the other two, joining the hug. "Did you hear that, Eli? We're going to be **brothers**!"

"...Brothers, huh?" Eli uttered pensively, yet shakily. His voice still wavered from his little outburst just a moment ago. If he wanted to say anything else, though, he was interrupted by another set of limbs joining them.

"Aren't you boys forgetting someone?"

"Qui-I mean..." Eli immediately corrected himself, blushing: "m-m-mum..."

Now that's a million dollar smile if I've seen one, Snake thought as he admired his soon-to-be-wife.

 

* * *

"I'm here." Paz said, her wheelchair moving forward with a low hum, in the direction of a young man. The jacket around his waist swayed softly in the sea breeze, and the way his broad back arched gave the impression he was carrying the weight of the world atop it.

Spike wouldn't turn to acknowledge her, but instead stared far off into the ocean melting into the darkness, the moon and stars reflecting on its calm waters.

"...I did it," he finally spoke. "I had to."

"...What made you do it?" Their little spat had only been a few hours ago, during the daytime. She knew he'd make the right choice, but never expected him take it so soon.

"The boys. Alan and Quiet are going to adopt them."

"Oh..."

"Couldn't hold it off for any longer," Spike delivered poignantly. "Doesn't make me feel like any less of a prick."

A delicate hand finds its way to his shoulder. Paz stood next to him, a good head shorter than him. She was wearing a navy blue uniform, the sort you would see on a schoolgirl.

"...Ah. So that's how it is," he said softly. "You're similar to me, aren't you?"

The woman who resembled a girl, the woman who was frozen in time, let out a sharp breath. "In a sense, but only just."

"It figures," Spike stuffed his hands in his pockets. "We might not have gotten along, but I won't forget you."

"..."

"I'll find the answers when the time comes, huh?" Spike closed his eyes and pulled his head back, towards the sky. "...Just another day in the office."

When he opened his eyes once more, she was gone, as he expected.

 

* * *

Venom Snake knew how to handle nerves, but this time he was at their mercy.

When he opened the unmarked envelope which had been left by the doorway of his room and retrieved the cassette tape within, his whole body trembled violently. His horn pulsed, the sensation more akin to that of a wounded appendage rather than shrapnel. The only time in recent memory he'd lost it this badly was when Paz returned to Mother Base.

 _From the Man Who Sold the World_ \- a name that he'd heard before, somewhere.

It's as if he were standing on the edge of remembering something vital, something that would change everything - but he was, for the first time, well and truly afraid to take the leap.

His crimson mechanical  fingertips picked up the rectangular plastic item as if possessed. With a click and a clack, the tape was inserted and the lid of the silver Walkman closed.

He pressed Play.

Next thing he knew, he was leaning on the bathroom sink, fighting the unbearable urge to vomit.

**Now do you remember? Who you are?**

Yes, he remembers... _he remembers_ Alan Coburn.

 

* * *

Talk about being in the wrong place in the wrong time.

He'd volunteered to provide medical aid throughout Latin America. Get carted to a small village here and there, assist the populace for a while, get picked up and then move on to the next village.

Aldea de los Despiertos had been his favorite of the three locations he'd tended to throughout that year. The reason was quite frivolous, really: these people really knew their coffee. M.D.s like him needed coffee like a truck guzzled gas.

The villagers were pleasant and accomodating, too, but so they'd been in the other countries he'd visited. People appreciated having a doctor to look after them wherever you went.

The simple life had agreed with him. He'd originally enrolled in the humanitarian program and left Salt Lake City to get away from a bad breakup, but the change of pace had proven to be great for his mental health.

In some ways, it was like the vacation he never knew he needed.

Until the men with guns came in and tied them up, of course.

The men spoke English - American. It only took minutes for them to single him out. "A surgeon? Yeah, he can be of use."

He knew better than to try and pull any funny business. He was in great shape for a man almost 40, and he'd gotten into plenty of scraps when he was younger, but he knew better than to sign his own death warrant.

At least he had no family waiting back home to worry for. It had just been him and his mother growing up, and she'd been gone for a while now.

All he could do then was to stay confined in the hut he'd been kept captive in, reading or exercising as much as he could within limited space. Eventually, the eyeslot on the thick, metallic blue door would slide open, and a pair of eyes would inform him his expertise was needed.

So that was it, until the one time it was a single eye that stared at him from the other side of the door.

"Be quiet," a gruff, husky voice whispered. "I'm going to get you out."

That was the first time Alan Coburn, later Firefly, would meet Big Boss.

Next thing he knew, Alan was soaring through the air, the abrupt acceleration threatening to force his bowels to loosen.

 

* * *

There were nukes in Costa Rica.

A ludicrous claim, under normal circumstances, but these were anything but.

It was natural to volunteer to help Snake and his private army under such circumstances, right?

However, he was an anomaly within Militaires Sans Frontières.

 _Primum non nocere_. **First, do no harm**.

The most important part of the Hippocratic Oath, and Alan took his vow very seriously.

"Just as well", Snake had said. "As part of the Medical Unit, you won't need to."

He was still expected to take part of combat drills and CQC training, like every other soldier of MSF.

That's where one characteristics about Alan, now Firefly, shone through - he didn't know how to take half-measures. Either he gave it his all, or he gave it his all.

Before anyone could realize, he was one of the top scorers at every practice drill. His gunplay and CQC were superb, second only to the Boss. Then there was his ability to keep cool under even the most stressful of situations...

It was clear they needed him out on the field.

"Just as well," Snake had once again said. "We have plenty of non-lethal options, and we need more able bodies."

Firefly had to admit that putting his previous captors out of commission, only to then extract them with the Fulton Recovery System, was absolutely priceless. Cathartic, even. Eventually, they'd even come to terms.

He'd grown to enjoy his life with MSF. When the Peace Walker incident came to a close, he decided not to return to Utah. This was his life now, but one thing would always remain true:

He might be MSF's best, but he would always be a doctor first, and a soldier second.

 

* * *

Ah.

He'd said it without second thought, but now, his _own words_ made sense to him.  _It was a part of him that was buried._

Venom Snake gazed into the mirror and saw a face that did not belong to him stare back.

He looked down at his hands. They were coated in blood. He knew it wasn't there, but the viscous crimson liquid stained his flesh, regardless.

He was supposed to save lives, not take them. When a man betrayed his very existence...that's when he couldn't be considered anything but a demon.

_So he was already a demon._

"This story, this legend; it's ours," the tape droned on. "We can change the world, and with it, the future. I am you, and you are me."

Stop it, he thought. I never asked to be you.

"Carry that with you wherever you go."

I don't have a choice on the matter.

"Thank you, my friend. From here on out...you're Big Boss."

Red steel shattered the mirror in a crushing blow.

 

* * *

The noise of glass breaking startled Quiet.

She knew where it came from.

In a blink, she was in Snake's room. She was relieved to see it was only the mirror.

But...

It had been her lover who had smashed it. His metallic fist resided on the middle of a web of hairline cracks.

He simply stood there, motionless, as if his very spirit had left his body. He didn't show any signs of acknowledging her presence.

"Hey..."

No response. Not even a grunt.

She took a small step, then another, and then another, until she was right next to him. "Snake...?" she placed a hand on his shoulder, and then...

He went limp.

"Aah!" She almost fell under his weight, but she managed to brace and slowly slid both of them downwards until they were both sitting on the tile floor of his bathroom.

She doesn't say anything to confort him. She knows that if he's this shaken, then there was nothing anybody could say that would help him. It broke her heart to see him like this, and to lack even an inkling of the reason why, but for his sake, she'd be strong.

As they sat there, Quiet couldn't help but think that this was the first time silence felt this weighty to her.

Eventually, Snake did something. He stretched towards the Walkman, resting awkwardly on the floor nearby.

He held the rewind button for a few seconds causing the player to emit squeaky, fast-paced sounds. Releasing that switch, he then depressed the Play button.

Then a voice, similar but not quite the same as her Snake's, claimed to be Big Boss.

This was a lot to take in. Quiet couldn't find words once more.

Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until she found her voice again: "You didn't know." It was a statement, not a question.

He nodded, regardless.

"Do you hate...him?" It sounded foreign, as if an idea completely disconnected from reality, but there were two Big Bosses.

Her Big Boss shook his head. "No."

She said the only thing she could think of. "This changes nothing for me. I fell in love with you, **not** the legend."

With the smallest, saddest of smiles, he answered. "I know..." he uttered, grateful for the reassurance regardless.

She had dozens, if not hundreds of questions, but most didn't matter now. She focused on the important one.

"...What now?"

Snake sighed in anguish. "We have to let the boys know, first."

"It hasn't even been a day..." Quiet pondered.

"I don't want to hide it from them," Snake said.

"Neither do I," she agreed. "But it won't be easy."

"Yeah. Then there's Kaz. Ocelot. All of the Diamond Dogs. I won't lie to them. They need to know."

Quiet leaned closer. "We'll face it together."

They stayed like that, huddled close on the bathroom floor, for a while longer.

 

* * *

They were smart kids. He figured the best way to explain it to them was the same way he and Quiet found out.

The boys had been playing with D-Dog. The canine had followed them inside, and now Tretij absentmindedly carressed his fur while listening intently to the recording.

It wasn't the freckled boy Snake was worried about, though.

Eli's countenance was unreadable. His arms folded, he glared at the Walkman with such ferocity it was a miracle it didn't catch fire.

When the message's end was heralded by a clicking from the tape player, nobody said a word.

Tretij, reading the room, focused on doting his animal companion. To him, it made no difference. He had a father now, a real father. Not one whose hatred would twist his own mind, make him cower for his life, set the world ablaze...

Tretij nuzzled D-Dog gently. There was no use thinking about that any more. He was essentially a new person. Maybe this is who he always was. Now his thoughts were entirely his own, no longer warped by the negative emotions of others.

"...This is why we didn't match when you had those tests done," Eli finally spoke, but would not tear his vision away from the spot the silver player sat on.

"Yeah..." Snake muttered. "You've never met the real Bi-"

"You're the real Big Boss."

The blond boy turned towards Snake, conviction reflecting in pools of blue.

"Eli..." Snake begun, but Eli raised his index finger, beckoning the older man to allow him to finish what he was about to say.

"Big Boss said he'd create a place where soldiers would not be used as tools," Eli paced around the room. "I know that much. Yet, he had no qualms using you as if you were one."

"It wasn't his doing," Snake protested. "Zero made the arrangements, and-"

"He callously took advantage," Eli refuted. "He could've explained what happened, but instead he strung you along for his own convenience."

Quiet could feel something tugging at the corner of her lips. Eli was...

"I know you wouldn't do that to one of the Dogs. You are true to the ideals of Big Boss, and he isn't. Therefore, that man isn't the real deal. **You** are." Simple, childlike logic, yet carrying some aspect of truth in it.

"...Wouldn't you like to meet him, though? He's your-"

"No. He's just another person," Eli interrupted with a confident grin. "I don't care if we share blood or not. I want **you** to be part of my life, and for me to be part of **yours**. Our genes don't matter, remember? I already have a father."

If Snake could cry, he probably would've done so then and there.

"And...dad? I've figured it out."

"Figured what out, exactly?" Tretij, having been intently listening to his usual partner-in-crime, his _brother_ , asked.

"Remember how you asked me if being a soldier is what I wanted to do with my life?"

Snake gave a small nod. "How could I forget?"

"Dad, I **do** want to be a soldier. But here's the thing - I don't want to be **just** a soldier."

Snake crooked his neck a little to the side and crossed his arms. "Go on."

"I've been wondering about what exactly it means to be a soldier. Is it just someone who fights to their death? That's what I used to think. But that's not it."

The young boy turned towards Tretij and D-Dog before continuing.

"Every soldier fights to protects something. Their beliefs. Their country. Their comrades. Their loved ones. And...the future," the blond took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and recalled precious memories made in a small haven hidden on the middle of the ocean.

"There are many things I want to see, to do. So many people I want to meet. I used to want to be strong just for the sake of it, but now...I want to be strong so I can protect everything and everyone."

The determination in Eli's words shone bright like a star.

Snake beamed. So this is what it felt to be a father. This sensation swelling in his chest and threatening to burst...was pride, wasn't it?

"I won't fight because of my genes," Eli added. "I won't fight because that's what I was told to do since I was born. I will fight because there are things worth fighting for. That's all."

With uncharacteristic expressiveness, Snake warmly smiled for his son.

"Plus, someone's gotta lead by example when you're too old for the field," Eli playfully punched Snake's arm.

Snake chuckled mirthfully. "Planning on taking over the Diamond Dogs, already?"

"Nah, I just want to help my old man out."

 

* * *

Kaz took it far worse.

"So, I've really lost everything, huh..." the man lamented from behind his dark lenses.

"Kaz..." Snake uttered, his hand reaching towards the slumped form of the inconsolable officer. Kaz, with his good arm, swatted Snake's gesture away.

"Leave me alone," Kaz spat. "Your damn face disgusts me!"

Quiet cringed, but bit down on her lip. Now that she allowed herself to speak, the idea of verbally slapping Kaz across his proverbial mug was incredibly tempting, but she knew that wouldn't help.

Instead, she squeezed the shoulder of her boy. Eli had insisted on being present when they broke the news to Kazuhira Miller, and wouldn't take no for an answer. Snake had been happy to oblige; he very much enjoyed the notion of Eli becoming his own man and asserting his decisions.

Her message got across clearly, and Eli too held back his tongue.

Kazuhira threw open a drawer violently and retrieved a short glass and decanter, which he slammed onto his wooden desk. Clearly, the crystal container held strong alcohol within.

He aggressively fumbled with the round stopper lidding the bottle closed. His thumb pushed a bit too hard, and the ball fell atop his desk, fracturing with an abrupt thwack.

Kazuhira Miller contemplated the cracks along the orb and its cylindrical protuberance in silence for seconds that were far too long.

He roared berserk and swatted the glass on the desktop.

It fell on the floor with struendous crash, shattering to smithereens.

The onlookers tensed. Snake took a step back.

The frenzied man brought the bottle to his lips and took a swig. Then another. Another. Liquor overflowed his mouth and dripped down his chin, down his neck, staining his collar, sullying his suit, spattering his coat.

He drank to forget. To wash himself away in an inebriated daze.

Foolish comfort never came.

Snake's red arm tore the bottle away from the would-be drunkard's iron grip. Without strain, steel fingers crushed crystal.

Streams of brandy coursed down his metal digits. The cascading fluid became drops at his tips, and eventually fell to the floor like rain.

"You done?" Snake growled.

"Fuck off."

"Kaz." Snake took a step forward.

"I said **FUCK OFF** , you damn counterfeit!"

"Uncle Kaz."

Time stood still. Eli tore off from Quiet's reassuring grip, unwilling to remain a bystander any longer.

"Uncle Kaz," once more, for good measure. The commanding officer had been caught flat-footed. "We've all lost something," Eli continued, "if not everything. But don't forget there are things we've gained, too."

"Eli, you..." Quiet breathed.

"I can't say I understand how you feel, but don't forget you have mum, dad, me and Tretij. The rest of the Dogs, too."

Kazuhira didn't say anything. Rather, he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"Kaz," Snake begun. "I might not be the person either of us expected me to be, but I'd still like to believe we're friends."

The room fell silent right after, at least until Kazuhira Miller could find his voice again.

"We've been through a lot together, haven't we?"

Snake huffed with a smirk. "Yeah, we have."

"...All right," Kaz stood up from his leather office chair. "I'm still unbelievably pissed, but it's not your fault."

"It could be."

"What do you mean?" Kaz rapidly spat.

"There's still some Big Boss in me. I wouldn't blame you if you held me partly responsible for that reason."

"So are you Big Boss? Or are you Firefly?" Kaz expression was dour.

"At this point, I'd say I'm neither, and both at the same time. The philosophical implications are fascinating, really."

Kaz huffed, the severity of his manner slightening. "You were always an egghead, Alan. Not much of a talker, either, unless you wanted to sound smart."

"And I was just about to get started on Descartes."

Kaz allowed himself to slacken somewhat. "You know what? To hell with that Big Boss. Let him do whatever he wants. We'll surpass him. Show him how it's done."

"He's building a nation," Snake added, "but I wonder if his endgame is even necessary, as things are."

"Cipher wants to cease hostilities," Kaz followed. "You know how much I hate the idea of dealing with Cipher, but that offer was meant for him."

"Or was it?" Quiet interjected.

"...Have the two Big Bosses face against each other," Snake theorized. "But would Paz do that?"

"You mean, betray us? Like she did once?" Kaz snarked bitterly.

"Well, you brought up that she could be an impostor. A phantom, you said."

"I wasn't thinking straight at the time," Kazuhira said.

"Are you ever?" Quiet jabbed.

"Quiet, you." Kaz shot back, pun definitely intended. "But it's strange. At the time, the concept did not seem so far-fetched to me. And now, here's a phantom, right in this very room."

"Maybe you're psychic. Tretij better watch out. He's got competition," Snake said.

"I'm serious. I don't know how I came up with the idea."

"Well, I suppose all we can do is confront her about it."

"Paz is nice..." Eli spoke up. "I'm sure she doesn't know anything about this."

"Hope you're right, and this doesn't end up a life lesson for you," Kaz told the boy.

"There's more pressing matters, though," Snake brought his flesh hand to his forehead. "We still have to tell Ocelot, and the rest of the men. Who knows what will be the consequences of that little revelation."

"About that," Kaz took a step forward, leaning against his crutch. "Ocelot has been unaccounted for. He's been gone the whole day."

Quiet clicked her tongue. "Do you think he..."

"Was the one to drop the tape? It's possible," Snake surmised.

Miller nodded. "Ocelot working for the other Big Boss? Makes sense."

"Let's not jump to conclusions yet," Snake gestured to slow down. "Besides, I'm more worried about how the men will take the news."

"So you're going to announce it?" Kaz sounded somewhat displeased, but Snake could tell he wasn't rejecting the notion altogether.

"Can't ask them to put their lives on the line for me if I'm not honest with them."

Kaz frowned. "Is that Big Boss or Alan Coburn speaking? Because if it's the former..."

"Both, neither, I don't know," Snake shrugged. "Trying to take this whole identity crisis in stride is hard enough as it is."

"Fair enough," Kaz admitted, tapping the floor with his cane. "It's not a good idea from a purely practical perspective, but you know this. I won't stop you."

"...Thanks, Kaz."

"Big Boss can go to hell," Kaz repeated. "The original one, at least. We're going to prove to be better than him. Show him how it's done."

"You sound like you want revenge," Snake muttered warily. "I don't really want to start a war with the other me."

"I figured," Kaz said. Snake, in turn, placed his hand on the officer's back.

"Revenge is hollow," the commander commented. "We learned that together. But even then, I know your anger and indignation won't just leave."

Kaz huffed. "You got that right."

"I can't claim to feel the same way you do. I don't know if that's because I'm Big Boss too. But I do know one thing. We can use those emotions for something better. Something greater than you, or I, or the other Big Boss."

Behind his aviators, Kaz's eyes widened. "You mean..."

"That's right, together we can..."

 

* * *

"...pursue our dream of a place where soldiers are not tools of the government, or anyone else." Snake's image flickered within the cathode ray television display. The cube-shaped monitor sat on a wall mount installed near the ceiling, bulky and ugly.

Spike had thought several times that he couldn't wait for LCD displays to become the standard, but that idea was the farthest thing from his mind at this time.

He leaned back on his chair in front of his cluttered desk, contemplating the future. Snake had just told everyone on Mother Base about his true nature through closed circuit television. Discord would no doubt erupt soon.

There was also the matter of the petite woman clad in blue, who now sat on an unobstructed edge of his desk, kicking at air. Air she might as well have materialized from.

"And here I thought I gave you some cool parting words. Worthy of being in a movie, even."

Paz scoffed, before shrugging and kicking at air with leather loafers some more.

"Boss has been looking for you, you know." Spike stated, not bothering to ask how Paz had gotten there.

A person who wasn't there, and then suddenly appeared. The logic of the illogical. He might be a man of science and ingenuity today, but he was still born of a world of magic and mystery.

Things like ghosts, apparitions, and sundry hardly fazed him.

"The rest is up to you," she answered.

"Leaving so soon after you just got back? I'm going to get lonely. I was even starting to enjoy our bants."

Paz stuck out her tongue. So much for the departed being refined. "I was going to watch from afar, but now I'll make sure to haunt you."

"So I take this isn't a social call, and you want something from me?" Spike followed.

"You know what I want."

"My phone number?" Spike jabbed. "Sorry, but I think-"

The clamor originating from the top of his lab told him it wasn't the time for jokes.

"-you want me to cover for your 'escape'," he finished. "Okay, all right. Our friends have enough on their plate already. Now, if you'll excuse me," he stood and cracked his knuckles, "I might have to pacify a rowdy crowd."

Of course, he knew he was talking to no one.

 

* * *

 

Butterfly Effect ///// 06 [Superposition]

 

* * *

 

A caramel drink sloshed in his glass, ice cubes clacking against the surface almost melodically.

Brandy was usually not to Ocelot's taste, but he'd take it.

"How long have you known?" he was asked by a male voice, both unfamiliar and all too recognizable to him.

"Since the beginning," he said, tipping his head back and gulping down the liquid in one swoop. He brought the glass back down, letting it rest atop the varnished wood of a bartop.

"Even so, you want to go back?"

"...Yeah," a huff and a smirk came from the self-styled cowboy. "I've grown somewhat fond of those two. Maybe even Miller."

"Truly? That's unlike you."

"Just because I'll do anything to get the job done-" he shifted in his stool, "-doesn't mean I'm an unfeeling son of a gun."

"So what will you do now?" The other person asked. "Will you go back?"

"...I want to see them be happy, if just a little while longer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this?! An update released in a reasonable timeframe?!? Surely, you jest!
> 
> So now we're approaching the climax. Two chapters left, plus an epilogue. This is going to be the part that will be the most exciting - and most challenging - for me to write.
> 
> I honestly feel like either releasing them all together, or releasing the two chapters and the epilogue shortly afterwards. I just feel that what's coming next chapter is not something that should be left in a cliffhanger, and should have a seamless continuation.
> 
> The epilogue, I'm not as sure. Ideally, it would be released a week after the final chapter, but since I don't want to fall victim to schedule slips again...it might be best to just submit the three entries at the same time.
> 
> What do you think? I'd appreciate any suggestions, comments or reviews.
> 
> Ultimately, whatever I'll submit will be ready...when it's done. Hey, that helped get this chapter done quicker. As long as it works.
> 
> Finally, no illustrations yet because I thought getting you this chapter was more important. Plus I take forever drawing, too. Even moreso than writing.
> 
> See you soo- I mean, when I see you!
> 
> Oh yeah, Tres Leches is a popular cake in Latin America. I freaking love it.
> 
> UPDATE: Oh hey, this was updated the very same day it was posted, two years ago! It wasn't intentional, but hey, happy little accidents. Thanks to everyone who's been patient with it so far!


	7. Eternal Entanglement

"...I thought things were going to get rough. Like, riots or something. Instead, all that ruckus was the men and women voicing their support for the Boss," Spike finished, shrugging with a smirk. "In hindsight, I should've seen it coming."

Ocelot leaned against a nearby tree. "Meaning?"

Spike shook his head before taking a gulp from the water bottle he held. "We're Dogs. It's only natural we're loyal."

"Cheesy bastards too, looks like," Ocelot said.

Spike chuckled low. "No, that's probably just me."

Revolver Ocelot knew far more than he was letting on. Spike could tell that much. He'd found Ocelot's return to Mother Base surprising, what with the timing, but that was probably it. The Russian was known for never making sloppy moves.

Reemerging at the most suspect of times, should he be involved with any duplicity, was far beneath Revolver Ocelot, espionage extraordinaire. Such a move would ironically throw any suspicions off him; in a sense, it could very well be reverse psychology. At least, that was Spike's assumption.

Plus, if someone was drawing heat right now, it was Paz.

Spike couldn't go around saying "Hey, Paz disappeared without a trace because she's a ghost or something. She's actually still around!" He had a reputation for being eccentric already, he didn't need to add 'crazy' to the mix.

"Maybe it isn't, kid," Kaz chortled, gazing at the two boys playing with their soon-to-be parents in the pristine lake, splashing water at each other. "Things are changing around here, but I can't say I mind."

Their wedding day was drawing near, so the order for the cease of all combat operations had been issued by Snake. He wanted all of those under him to be present, he'd said.

Spike wondered how much of that he could take at face value, and how much it was because of a man who had once sworn to never take life reemerging from the depths of Snake's psyche.

They'd decided to take advantage of the peaceful time and take some time to unwind, as well as show the kids a good time outside Mother Base for once. Spike had been asked to tag along, no doubt due to Tretij's insistence. Eli, for his part, silently accepted his presence, even if he was probably not too thrilled.

He had to be a little sad about the whole state of affairs with Paz, Spike thought. Maybe he'd have a talk with the boy regarding the woman later, but for now, he'd leave the child enjoy himself.

The bliss of no longer being truly alone in the world probably trumped over any melancholy within him.

"It's almost unreal, isn't it?" Kaz said, gazing at the happy little family.

Spike was about to open his mouth to reply, but ultimately decided against it.

Ocelot, for his part, said nothing. Instead, he slid down the tree trunk until he was sitting in the shade of the branches and leaves overhead, closing his eyes.

"...I wonder how long it'll last," Kaz added. "This peace."

"Not long," Ocelot answered, and a chill ran down Spike's spine.

Revolver Ocelot knew far more than he was letting on. Spike could tell that much, but...what exactly did he know? More than what Spike could figure out by himself. That much was certain.

"Something's happening." Kaz's voice broke him from his musings, stern urgency in his voice.

"Did you just jinx u-" Spike immediately stopped himself and dug into his pocket for his iDroid. "I'm. I'm calling Pequod."

For some reason, Quiet had doubled over her stomach, face contorted in agony.

There was something else. Ocelot's eyes, now open, were misty.

 

* * *

 

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Spike slammed the Russian spymaster against the steel wall, gripping his collar. "WHAT THE HELL DID **YOU DO**?!"

Kaz, expression grim, said nothing as the young man violently shook Ocelot. He, too, wanted answers, and whatever disposition he might've had to come to terms with the gunslinger had all but vanished.

"...I didn't do anything." Ocelot answered.

"Don't give me that shit. We all saw what happened back there. WHAT DID YOU DO TO QUIET?!"

"...She's unharmed," Ocelot replied despondent, offering no resistance. Spike released the grasp he had on his clothing, and Ocelot slid down the wall like a rag doll.

"You better give me an explanation right now," Spike spat, venom dripping from his words.

"...Time's up. It's coming undone. I didn't think it'd hurt this much. But it does. I must've...grown fond of you people, too. Or maybe seeing Liquid and Mantis walk a different path made me realize just how wrong I'd been."

"Stop rambling!!" Kaz finally interjected. "Who the hell are _Liquid_ and _Mantis_?!"

"...Why don't you ask Paz, Spike?" Ocelot answered.

Spike threw a punch. It hit the wall that had been right behind Ocelot. There was no Ocelot there, no Ocelot to be found anywhere.

"What the fuck... **WHAT THE FUCK**?!" Spike screamed in panic. " **KAZ, WHAT THE FUCK**?!"

Kazuhira Miller said nothing.

"KAZ, HE JUST **VANISHED** INTO THIN AIR!!"

Still nothing.

"KAZ, SAY SOMETHING!"

So he did.

"Catherine."

Spike's confusion grew together with his agitation. "Wha...HUH?!"

"I want to see Catherine."

"...And who **IS** Catherine?! Why are you bringing this up now?!"

Miller choked a sob. "My daughter. My baby girl."

 

* * *

As he floated in nothingness, he could feel violent vibrations coming from the ever-distant world outside.

Whatever was happening...that's the only 'sense' he had experienced in a long, long time.

How long had it been since he'd last felt something?

How long had it been since he stood on his own two feet?

How long had it been since his hands held onto anything?

How long had it been since his eye had last seen?

He didn't know. He couldn't know.

There was no way for him to know.                                

 

* * *

"Congratulations," Code Talker said, gleeful. "It's a boy."

The declaration floored Snake.

"W-what?"

"Your son."

"Come again?"

"Your child. Quiet's pregnant with your child."

He should be happy. He should be ecstatic.

No, he should be the happiest man on Earth right about now.

Instead, he was frozen, cold, terrified.

The person he once had been was a medical professional. He didn't need to be to recall Quiet didn't have the organs to bear children anymore.

He'd also been subject to the Wolbachia treatment during their battles against XOF. A treatment which makes one sterile.

In other words, he'd been presented with an impossible miracle.

It should be the happiest moment of his life, but it couldn't be so.

"Thank you for looking after her. I-I need to see her," Snake said, only then coming to realize that Code Talker was no longer there.

Something was definitely wrong.

Rather than heading deeper into the medical bay, towards Quiet's room, he stepped outside.

There was nobody to be found. Anywhere.

He blinked. There was no way the platform could be this empty...had his worry for Quiet submerged him into delusion?

No, this was happening. It wasn't the same when he'd have hallucinations about Paz. Paz, who'd turned out to be alive and well, and who'd then abandoned th-

-Was that right?

He'd see her every time he visited this place, behind a door opened by the press of a big red button. That same button he was gazing absentmindedly at now.

A door that led nowhere, yet to him, it always looked like a patient's room...until the illusion was shattered. Until 'reality' shattered the false perception born from wishes and regrets.

He remembers the tapes. Not the exact words, but Paz had said there was some of her with him, always.

Those tapes had never been recorded. Another hallucination? Or was it something else?

What was 'real' and what wasn't?

He had two choices.

One, turn around, accept the miracle, and never speak of this again. Simply live. Big Boss, Snake, Alan Coburn, all of the above - whoever he was, he was truly alive here. Was it so wrong to simply accept it?

His other choice was to see what was on the other side of that door. No, rather...it was to simply confirm what he already knew.

And when he did, he felt right down to his bones, there might not be any turning back.

Holding his breath, he made his decision. He pressed the button, as he'd done so many times before.

And on the other side was not an empty lot, a work in progress.

Instead, a young girl, frozen in time, wearing little, sat on a hospital bed. A V-shaped scar crisscrossed her abdomen, looking as fresh as that fateful day so many years ago.

The day both him and the other Big Boss failed to save her.

The day Paz Ortega Andrade died.

She leveled her eyes at him, gaze warm, understanding, and nostalgic.

"So," said Paz. "You've started to figure it out, haven't you?"

"I have so many questions." Snake, Alan, said. "But one thing's for certain. This isn't real."

Paz shook her head. "No, you're wrong. It is real. Just not the reality you're used to."

"Don't speak in riddles," Snake shot back. "I demand an explanation."

Paz hopped from the bed, and approached Snake. "You will have it, but all in due time. Shouldn't you should be visiting someone else instead?"

With that, she was gone. Snake knew she was right.

His legs felt like lead as he dragged himself through hallways that seemed to stretch into forever. His heart, however, was heavier. Was he about to lose everything?

No, Alan Coburn thought. He had already lost everything.

Not here, not now.

He remembers the first time he heard Quiet's voice. Not when she accepted his proposal to become his bride, but rather, when she said farewell and disappeared into the desert, leaving only a recording to remember her by.

Just like that, her footprints faded in sand...and part of him went with her.

He'd never fill that void. As Outer Heaven crumbled around him and he no longer had the strength to even move, he resigned himself to his end. There was no reason to keep on struggling.

It had been time to let go. All he wished for was to see her one last time.

The door to Quiet's room opened.

The other side of the doorway led somewhere entirely different.

It was a place familiar to Snake, a place Alan Coburn had never seen. It was a field filled with a particular white flower, dancing in the gentle breeze.

The Star-of-Bethlehem.

 

* * *

Spike witnessed a sight he'd known a hundred thousand times before.

There was a hill of corpses stacked over the Command Platform's helipad, and they all had his face.

On the top of the hill of lifeless bodies that had once been his, he knew he'd find his way out.

"Is it like this every time?"

He didn't turn around to meet that specter called Paz. "Yeah. My recollection's hazy, but...I'm certain it's always something like this."

"I'm sorry."

Spike huffed and grinned. "Don't be. I'm glad I could see Snake...Alan again. I also got to meet everyone else. I only knew stories."

"Does it hurt?"

"Of course it does," Spike replied. "It always does, saying goodbye. Even so, it's worth the pain."

He began to step towards the imposing mound.

"Thanks for seeing me off, by the way," Spike said before climbing the grim rise. "You're alright."

"What's it going to be this time?" Paz asked.

"Who knows? Maybe a world which has never known war and desperately needs a defender. Maybe one that's about to collapse and needs me to sort out the mess. Maybe something entirely new this time. Can't know until I'm there. Ask me again in a decade or so."

He sat atop the hill, looking down at her.

"I think I get the gist of what's going on here. Boss and I haven't met yet, have we?"

Paz shook her head.

Spike shrugged. "Guess that confirms some of my suspicions," he took another glance at the place he'd called home for the duration of his stay. "Man, the OG DD's Mother Base, huh? Kinda wish I could take a picture with me."

Paz smiled. "You should've seen MSF's. It wasn't as big, but it made up for it with style. We even had a soccer field!"

"Yeah, I'm aware," Spike chuckled. "Chico wouldn't shut up about it."

"You know..." Paz started. "The Diamond Dogs, the first Diamond Dogs, were never this happy. Their pursuit of revenge left them hurting and hollow. What little they had, they lost, because they wanted to take back everything. They never did. But you..." she gestured at the millions of him. "You played an important part in their rebirth. Thank you."

Spike smiled. It wasn't a smug grin or a sharp smirk like he usually offered. This time, it was a genuine, gentle, radiant, warm smile. "We had a good run, didn't we?"

"The best. Despite all the sorrow, hardships, and loss, you set built foundations for the future. Some of you became misguided, hearts twisted by all the pain. But even so...the return of the Diamond Dogs brought hope to so many you don't know."

"What the Boss set out to do...he succeeded, right?"

"Of course he did. This is Snake we're talking about, after all."

"I'd expect nothing less," Spike huffed in satisfaction, standing proud. "Maybe someday, I'll come across that future you speak of," he turned around to face an oaken door, upright and seemingly leading nowhere. His hand lingered on its handle.

"One more thing," the man said. "Kaz's in the mess hall. I think he could use a friendly ear. You were already planning on visiting him, weren't you?"

"It goes without saying. Goodbye, Spike Ingram. Keep on shining."

"You too," he raised his free hand and made a V-sign over his shoulder. "Peace."

With that, he was gone, his hill fading into dust carried away by wind.

 

* * *

 

Kazuhira Miller stared down at a slice of strawberry cheesecake.

The only light in this place hung right above, illuminating his lonely table. Nothing else stirred in the mess hall, too large for just him.

Just him and the cheesecake.

After minutes of just staring at it, the man finally brought a spoonful to his mouth.

Right afterwards, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"Is it good?"

He recognizes the voice immediately, but doesn't try to meet her gaze. "Yeah. It's not the best-" he allows himself to smile just a little, "-but that's what makes it special."

"Is there a story you want to share?" Paz asked, already knowing the answer.

Miller took a deep breath. "My daughter. Catherine. The first thing she ever baked was cheesecake. It was a little after Zanzibar Land; just after we'd taken out Big Boss - the one that isn't Alan. She was ten at the time. I come back home to find the kitchen a mess. She'd wanted to welcome her dad with something special."

He sighed wistfully before continuing. "Couldn't be mad at her. We scarfed the whole thing down that night. It was lumpy and cracked, but I couldn't help but think it was the best thing I'd ever eaten."

Kaz smiled. "Since I liked it, she kept practicing, getting better and better. Every time I'd go pick her up - you know, custody and all - she'd have some for me. So..."

Paz quirked her head gently. "So...?"

"So I came to realize how meaningless it had all been," Kaz said. "That pursuit of revenge. I wanted to take Big Boss down, more than anything. I was a rabid animal, not caring who got hurt in the process. That includes Alan. I overlooked the things, the people, worth cherishing."

"Big Boss betrayed me," Kaz uttered, resigned. "But I also betrayed myself."

Wordlessly, Paz placed a hand on Miller's.

"There's no way to undo what happened. The harm I did. There's just one thing left. Just one thing."

Paz gave his hand a squeeze, urging him to continue.

"Tell Eli. Tell Eli I forgive him. Whatever happened to me because of him, I don't blame him. He made the same mistakes I did. That's why I...will never hate him."

The hand Paz had been holding, too, vanished.

 

* * *

 It felt like opening his eyes for the very first time.

The world was bright, so bright. So warm.

Eli could feel the soft ground beneath him. His hand was grasping something. He turned his head to take a look at it. It was an oversized black sleeve.

"Tretij...?"

The redhead's eyelids parted. "...Eli...?"

The boys stood up, surveying their surroundings. They noticed they stood in a field of white flowers, the plants reaching beyond their waists.

"Where are we...?" Tretij asked.

"Boys!"

Snake ran towards them. He knelt when he reached them, and wrapped each of them in one arm.

"Dad...where are we?" Eli asked.

Snake had no answers to give them. "All we can do is keep going. Give me your hands."

The boys held onto the man whom they called father.

Together, they kept walking, no goal or direction in sight.

They finally spotted something in the distance: a cylindrical steel monolith they all recognized, the Mammal Pod.

Nowhere else to go, they ventured towards it.

In the shadow of the mammal pod, there was a hospital bed.

White petals were scattered over its sheets, as well as on the woman who rested atop the mattress.

"Quiet?"

"...Alan," the woman answered before sitting upright on the bed. "Eli, Tretij, my boys."

"Mom...?" Tretij started, reaching towards her. She welcomed his hand, clasping her fingers around his sleeved appendage.

"You two are going to have a brother soon."

"Quiet, that's..." Alan choked, but-

"Impossible?" Quiet interjected. "I know. My body could not sustain a child. Yet...he's out there. Not in my womb, but our child just the same."

"Quiet, what...what do you mean?"

She gave him a reassuring smile. "It's impossible for me to bear children, just as it's impossible to change the past."

Snake swallowed dry. "A-are you...no, no, don't leave me!"

Her hands fell on his. "I won't. I'm always with you."

"Don't give me that!" Snake cried. "I'm not losing you again!"

"You never did."

"A-ah....no...!!" Snake's body trembled as the pieces were starting to fall into place...

...and he realized what it meant for the two boys by his side.

The agony of losing Quiet was there, but it was something he'd already survived. Instead, he wanted to scream for his sons.

There was no way to save them now, was there?

The question that he hadn't dared to ask escaped him.

"Are we dead?"

Quiet shook her head, clearly holding back tears. "You're not."

"I don't understand," Snake stammered. "What is this place? Heaven?!"

"If you wish to call it that."

A female voice that didn't belong to Quiet...it came from the Mammal Pod.

Alan had heard it before, but this was their first real meeting, wasn't it? A woman he knew everything about, but had never met. A woman who was like a mother to him, but also a stranger.

The Mammal Pod's casing fell open. Steel fell noiselessly to the soft ground.

A blonde clad in white descended from it; the person Snake expected to see. With high cheekbones and sharp eyes, her very step was dignified.

Her lips curled upwards as she joined the haphazard little family. "It's nice to meet you all."

 

* * *

 

**BUTTERFLY EFFECT |FINAL| ///// [Eternal Entanglement]**

 

* * *

 

 

The Boss. The Mother of Special Forces.

The woman who died for her country, her storied legacy tainted for the sake of the mission. The very image of strength in Snake's mind.

So close to him, yet so distant.

"Is that really you, Boss?"

"Your mind's not playing tricks on you, Alan," The Boss said, before locking him in a warm embrace, the likes a parent would share with their child. "I'm sorry for what Jack did to you."

"It's okay, Boss," Snake breathed. "What's done is done. It's too late for me now."

She broke the hug and shook her head sadly. "No, that isn't true."

Snake's gaze wandered to the side, at the two boys who now held hands. "So what is this place? Heaven? Hell?"

"It's a world born from a wish. As I said, you could call it 'heaven' if you wanted, but it isn't exactly that."

"Demons don't belong past the pearly gates, is what you're telling me?"

The Boss smiled gently. "Alan. You're not dead."

"...So this is a dream?"

"No. As I said, it's a world born from a wish. This is all real, as real as you want it to be," the Boss placed a hand on his shoulder. "You are...standing at a crossroads, Alan."

Her gaze was intense, unwavering; yet kind, too kind.

"This is a place where time has no meaning," she declared. "Yet, you're still a prisoner of time, standing on the edge."

"I don't understand."

"You're still alive in the other side, and that's the reason this place is falling apart" the Boss smiled melancholic. "But you're at that point where death is almost inevitable."

"Outer Heaven...Solid Snake," Alan muttered. He dwells on the battle against the rookie soldier who despite all odds faced the military nation and won. The counterpart to Eli. The other son of Big Boss.

"Yes. He left you for dead."

"So I'm dying at Outer Heaven?"

"No. I'm afraid it's more complicated than that."

"...I was floating," Alan perceives, his other self far away. "And I can't see anything. It's cold. So very cold. But I'm no longer floating. There's something...pushing against me. Hard. Rhythmically. I know this rhythm. I know it all too well."

"...Unfortunately, there are those who would want a Big Boss to call their own," The Boss continued.

"Ah. _Les Enfants Terribles_ ," Snake uttered the name of the cloning project which had birthed Eli and Solid Snake, David, in Big Boss' image.

"This time, it's a little different," The Boss said. "That's why you have to make a choice."

"A choice?"

"To win something, you must lose something," she declared stoically. "That's how it is. Alan...you can go back to where you belong. Or you can stay here with us. The decision's yours."

"Why would...I ever want to go back? My...my wife and children are here. You're here. I'm sure if I stay, I'll eventually meet everyone who's important to me," he recalls his mother, the mother of a man once named Alan Coburn.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. Nothing ever is, is it?" The Boss looked him straight in the eye. "Alan, Snake. Speak to them. Speak to Quiet. When you've made your decision, come to me. I'll be waiting."

She did as she said, and Snake turned to face his family.

"There's no reason for me to return," he says, apprehensive. "Is there? I don't want to go back. I want to stay with all of you."

"Dad...I want you to stay, but..." Tretij started.

Eli ended the thought. "There's something you still have to do, isn't there?"

"The child..." Snake muttered. A child he never asked for.

Just like Eli. Eli, whose eyes were pleading. Not for himself, but for someone else entirely. Someone he'd never know.

Amidst all of his bittersweet sorrow, Snake allowed himself a small measure of pride, at how far Eli had come even if it had already been too late for him.

"You know, Snake..." Quiet's voice broke through his contemplation. "I kept thinking on the sky we saw that day. Do you remember? That one time we played under the rain?"

"I could never forget," Snake said. "That's a moment I kept revisiting in my mind. I wish I had said something. Anything. If I had..."

"Things would've played out differently?" Quiet shrugged. "Like they did here?"

"A world born from a wish..."

"People are filled with regrets, aren't they? We live, then we die, and we just keep thinking about how things could have been different if we were a little braver. A little more understanding. A little more honest."

She placed a hand on his chest, and felt his beating heart pulse under her fingers.

"In the desert, I kept remembering that sky. It was dreary and gray, but on the other side of the clouds...there was sunshine. Eventually, a little light broke through, and the world was bright."

Her forehead rests on his shoulder now. He can't see it, but he knows she's smiling.

"I wanted to leave...even if just a single, small ray of light that would shine through the clouds. So I hoped. I hoped against hope for a miracle. Even in the end, I never stopped hoping that I could leave even a small measure of good in the world."

"Quiet..."

"Alan. I don't know how, or why," her tears stained the cloth over his shoulder, "but he's out there. Our very own little ray of light. He needs you."

Snake swallowed dry. He wrapped his arms around her and shut his eye hard, trying to hold himself back from crying as well. He wasn't very successful.

"A mother knows," she sobbed on. "A mother just knows..."

Another set of strong, masculine arms joined the embrace. They were followed by another pair, far more slender, almost malnourished. Neither Snake nor Quiet had any doubts about who they were, for what parents wouldn't recognize their own sons?

Eli was tall and muscular, his features sharp and rugged. His blond hair was a little longer, but he still wore it the same as he did when he was a child.

Tretij's adult body was another matter entirely. He was gaunt if not anorexic, almost decrepit, and his sunken face was covered in hideous scars.

Even so, Snake and Quiet thought both their boys beautiful, for what parent doesn't think so of their children?

Snake smiled a little bitterly. "Guess there's only one real choice, isn't there?"

"This isn't goodbye," Quiet said.

"I know," Snake leant in, and gave his wife a small, quick kiss. It said everything that needed to be said and more.

"Eli, Tretij," he took a moment to wrap his arms around them. "I wish I could've done more. I wish I could've saved you."

"You did," Tretij answered.

"Yeah, dad," Eli said, "you really did."

"Together, then," Quiet added, before taking Tretij's hand and Alan's into her own. Eli held onto Snake's mechanical appendage, and together they headed in the direction The Boss was waiting. She wasn't terribly far off; she'd just put enough distance to give them a little privacy, and she smiled knowingly at the four walking side-by-side.

"So I take you've made your choice, Alan?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Boss, you said I could call this place 'Heaven' if that's what I wanted to do."

"That's correct, yes."

"Heaven was never a place for me anyways," Snake gave a soft grin. "Not yet, at least. There's still some things I need to do."

"I see," The Boss nodded, but it was apparent she already knew what his answer would be. "Are you ready?"

"...Yeah. Quiet, boys, I'll be seeing you. I love you all."

The last thing Snake saw before light engulfed him was his family waving at him.

 

* * *

He took his first breath in a long time, and his whole body convulsed.

The compressions stopped, and a figure clad in a tattered hood, too big for them, loomed over him.

"Bloody 'ell. Don't scare me like that, mate."

The man's accent is English, cockney. Even through his jumbled senses and the deafening alarms, he recognizes it immediately.

"Machinegun...Kid?"

He was a mercenary under his command, when he took over Outer Heaven as 'Big Boss'. He didn't know much about him - hell, he'd never seen him without a skull-patterned balaclava before, but that voice's unmistakable.

"That's one way to call me, but I reckon it's time to stop pretending," the red-clad silhouette replied, and the inflection in his words was completely different. He sounded like... "Come on, Alan, you never figured it out?!"

The **_Kid_** had slipped into the pronunciation of someone who had learnt English as a second language, with Spanish as their first.

"...What the... **CHICO**?!" Snake blurted carelessly, causing his body to be rocked by a coughing fit.

"Whoa, whoa! Easy there, Alan..." Chico helped him sit up, and it was then that he noticed he'd been strewn over a somewhat viscous, translucent liquid pooled on the floor. When the spasms stopped, he managed to take notice of certain aspects in his surroundings. Red emergency lights tinted the whole world the same color. He could make out tiny beads of shattered glass alongside some bigger shards under the unnatural lightning.

Shifting to look behind him, he noticed a broken crystal capsule, large enough to house a man of his stature.

"Was I in there...?" he asked without thinking.

"I'll explain later," Chico said as he pulled him to his feet and together, they slowly shuffled out of the room. "This AO's hot; we need to get to Pequod first. Lads, I'd appreciate an escort to the LZ!"

As they made their way to safety under a hail of gunfire, Snake took note of two more things: first, a simple emblem depicting a two-headed eagle plastered on many of the walls.

Second, the comforting sight of many recognizable faces, fighting for his sake.

 

* * *

Listening to the deafening noise made by the helicopter’s rotors was like coming home after a long journey.

The Aerial Command Center had been left unchanged. All the photographs hung from where they were supposed to, right above him. He ran his finger across a full-body shot of Quiet that was already starting to fade somewhat.

He wasn't alone aboard the transport chopper. Of course, there was Chico - Machinegun Kid - sitting to his side, but there were also a couple of other soldiers tending to a human-shaped bundle of blankets on the other side of the aircraft. Snake recognized one of the caretakers as Silent Basilisk, his once black hair now completely gray.

He tore his attention from them and put it back on Chico. The man, and there really was no other way to describe him now, had lowered his hood and there was no way to mistake him for someone else. Sure, his face had become chiseled with age and was now dotted with patches of stubble, and there was some scarring on his left cheek, but this was unmistakably Chico Valenciano Libre.

Snake took another glance at Basilisk, then back to Chico.

"So, what year is it?"

"1997." 

Snake sunk into his chair. "...At least it's not nine years."

"You're taking that surprisingly well," Chico said. "Looking rather well, too, if I do say so myself."

Snake raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"Whatever was in that goop was they had you submerged in when I found you had a purpose," Chico said, before pointing at the window behind them.

Snake could see his reflection, and the person who stared back at him looked younger than he remembered. It was definitely him, though. The scars and the shrapnel embedded into his skull confirmed such.

"Telomeric extension," Chico said. "Turn back the clock a little on your cellular age. It's not the proverbial fountain of youth, but it was adequate for their objectives."

"What did they want with me?" Snake asked.

"...You're going to want to be sitting down for this one," Chico said, to which Snake cocked an eyebrow, before using his only arm to gesture at the seat he currently occupied.

"You know what I meant," Chico said before his expression darkened. "Let me get straight to the point-"

"They wanted my genes," Snake interrupted. "Like with _Les Enfants Terribles_."

Chico paused, brought a fist to his mouth, and took a moment to compose himself. "...How did you know?" he finally asked.

"Lucky guess," Snake lied. "Honestly, if they were doing something to my cells, it's the only logical conclusion."

"Right," Chico said, unconvinced, before shrugging it off and moving on. "It's not a repeat of _Les Enfants Terribles_ , though. This time, it's a little different."

"Go on."

"Alan, you're familiar with cellular dedifferentiation, right?"

"Right."

"We managed to stumble upon some interesting information regarding that procedure while we investigated this 'C-Shocker' organization," Chico continued. "Namely, they have access to procedures to achieve 'somatic cell dedifferentiation', essentially taking some cellular samples from you and turning them into stem cells..."

"...and then instead differentiating them into germ cells afterwards," Snake finished.

"Very good, Doc," Chico said. "They didn't want to clone Big Boss again. They wanted to take it to the next level."

"The only thing is..." Snake interjected, "...they got the wrong Big Boss." He leaned forward, resting his hand on his leg. "...so how do you know all this? Wait, don't answer that. Why did you rescue me in the first place?"

"We've been looking for you for a good while," Chico grinned. "I've been coordinating the operations, by the way. You're welcome."

Snake half-sighed, half-scoffed. "Yeah, but who's 'we'? The Diamond Dogs-"

"The Diamond Dogs were reactivated following the failed Outer Heaven Uprising," Chico declared pointedly.

"...I'm not doing the whole body double stunt again," Snake growled.

"You don't have to," Chico said. "We're...ahem, your retirement package, essentially."

"...You've lost me," Snake protested.

"The Diamond Dogs are yours to command, Alan. No strings attached. Sure, we don't have the funding and infrastructure we once did," Chico jabbed at the air with his index finger. "but it's all yours. Big Boss made it happen, assembling the volunteers and giving us the necessary tools to get started. Our single directive was to find you. Afterwards, command was to transfer fully to your hands. You don't answer to anyone. It's all yours to do whatever you wish with it."

"Awful generous, coming from Jack," Snake said.

"Probably a crisis of conscience in his old age," Chico muttered.

"What about you?" Snake asked. "We all thought you dead. That includes your sister."

Chico's expression soured. "Yeah. I have my own beef with Big Boss, but I'm trying my best not to make a mess of that. So, here I am."

It was clear that there was some bad blood there, and Snake decided not to pry further.

"Anyways, what we do next is entirely up to you. You're our boss, Boss."

"Let's get back to the topic at hand," Snake said, realizing they'd gone on a tangent, even if it'd been an important one.

"Right. Uh, about that," Chico was evidently nervous now. "There's one more thing you should know."

Snake braced himself. "Give it to me straight."

"They, uh, they were aiming for something dangerously close to eugenics with their project. I think it's better if you see for yourself. Just...just don't take it too hard, all right?"

Carefully, Chico handed Snake an unassuming manila folder, which Snake set down on his lap and flipped open.

When he did, everything fell into place.

"They wanted to test a theory," Chico droned. "If the mother was an exemplary soldier herself, their offspring could possibly be an even better fighter."

Snake's vision wavered."...As she underwent the parasite procedure, XOF salvaged what they could from her battered body. That included preserving an oocyte...an egg cell."

Being denied of an impossible miracle, he had been blessed by another.

"The fertilization was successful, and... a healthy boy was born."

"...My son," Snake choked, a single tear running a trail down his cheek. He caressed the photograph of a newborn baby resting among papers in the file. "That's our son."

Chico smiled sadly. "Yeah. Yeah. That's who that is," he turned towards the window. "They... didn't even give him a name, outside a string of numbers that don't mean anything."

"He does have a name," Snake answered. "It's Ray."

"…Raymond Coburn, huh?" Chico said. "It's a good name."

"Of course," Snake tilted his head up, leveling his gaze at the fading picture just above. "His mother gave it to him, after all." 

 

* * *

Somewhere so far away, Quiet was smiling.

Somewhere that could never be reached, the woman faded into the gentle breeze that kissed the white flowers and made them dance.

All she left behind were butterflies, their wings like sapphires.

Eli and Tretij witnessed the metamorphosis. Absentmindedly, Tretij reached out to one of the flapping jewels.

Wherever their mother had gone, they'd be following soon, too.

 

* * *

"Well, one thing's for certain," Chico started. "We Diamond Dogs have our work cut out for us."

Snake grinned a little. "Yeah. I don't even need to say it, do I?"

"No, you don't," Chico chuckled mirthfully. "We're definitely getting him back. Mission accepted, Boss."

"I'm glad I got to meet you again, Chico."

"Feeling's mutual, guv'nor," Chico answered, slipping back into his practiced cockney twang.

"Going to need a couple of things," Snake waved the stub where his left forearm had once been. "New prosthetic, for starters."

Before Chico could answer with some witty retort he no doubt had prepared, one of the soldiers that had been huddled around the bundle of blankets spoke out. "Sir, I think he's regaining consciousness."

Snake recognized the female trooper as Flaming Buffalo, but for now, greetings and gratitude would have to wait. "Who's that?" he asked, unable to see the face of the person wrapped in fabric.

"Beats me," Chico said. "He was in pretty much the same situation as you, though, so we bailed him out."

The stirring figure groaned, and Snake edged towards them, taking a knee before removing the cloth concealing their visage. His breath caught in his throat.

"You...you're...!”

The groggy youth groaned. Blinking, he slowly tried to take in his current situation, before settling his dazed, distant eyes on Snake.  "Who...Who are you?"

The disoriented passenger had no idea the depth of the question he'd just leveled at the one-eyed, one-armed man.

Was he Venom Snake, the soldier? Alan Coburn, the doctor? Big Boss, the legend?

He was none of them. He was all of them. He was something more, too.

It occurred to him that for the very first time in so, so very long, he was truly free to answer that question however he pleased.

He'd been a mirage in the shape of another. Now, he was his own man, but he'd been shaped by those experiences.

That day, it wasn't just Ray who got his name.

The confused youth stretched his hand out pleadingly from under the fabric. The scarred veteran clasped it firmly in reassurance.

"Call me Snake. Phantom Snake. Don't worry; you're among friends, Spike."

 

* * *

Last Dance ///// [A Piece of the Sun]

* * *

My heart should be heavier with regrets, but it isn't.

We've all lived wretched lives, but right now, he's here, and he's holding my hand.

You can almost see the skull underneath his pale flesh, marred by scars.

I don't care. I squeeze his hand once more.

This man is my brother.

Brother. A word that I always uttered with the utmost vitriol.

Always cursing my fate. Simmering in frustration over the genetic stock that was used to make me.

It all seems so meaningless now.

Our time here was short, but I learned what really matters in life. Maybe too late, yet...I got a chance to be a little happy for once. In retrospect, joy was completely alien to me in life.

I'll take responsibility for that. I never fought it, I just let anger and hate consume me.

All because of my genes...

Dad doesn't care about those.

Dad.

It feels a little strange, having a Dad, but it’s the good sort of strange.

Had I been a different child, had I not been so overcome with my fury at the world which I felt spurned me...would my fate had intersected with Dad, like it did here?

No.

That didn't matter anymore.

Our fates are forever intertwined now. He'll always carry me with him, and we'll meet again.

I love him.

I love my dad.

I love my mom.

I love my brother, Tretij, who moves closer and embraces me.

"You were...always with me," I utter. "No matter how wrong I was."

"I wasn't all that better, myself," he answers back. I can hear him grinning.

"Our lives were a goddamn mess, weren't they?" I say. "Not just for us, but also everyone around us. Mom. Dad. Uncle Kaz. Ocelot."

"They were." By this point, we're no longer pressed tightly against each other, yet we still hold onto each other by the arms.

I look at him straight in the eye. "No matter how much we'd want to, we can't change that."

He smiles at me and I can see some freckles under the scars. "No. No, we can't. All we can do is hope for the future."

He's taken on a brilliant glow, and I release my grip on him. He does the same.

"Eli, I'm going ahead. There's still something you want to do, isn't there?"

Just like that, he's left the field of flowers, but I feel he can still hear me.

"Right. Wait for me."

 

* * *

Somehow, I find my way back to Mother Base.

The platforms, the sea, the very sky...they're all collapsing. Soon, this world would cease to be.

I find myself oddly at peace with this.

I make my way to the top of the Command Platform, where I quietly spectate the end of the world.

Soon enough, company arrives.

"How do you feel?" she asks as she seats next to me, legs dangling just past the railing.

"It's hard to believe, but...never better."

Paz gives me a knowing look filled with sympathy. "You never had the chance to be a child."

"I enjoyed it, even if fleeting," I say, not even sparing it a second thought. For once, I hold no barriers. I bare myself, here in the end. "You had a part in this, didn't you? Thank you."

She casts her gaze down at a pair of silver-rimmed glasses I've never seen before, resting in her hands. "We were just observers. This world was born from wishes..."

"Including mine," I finish for her, all too aware of my looming mortality. "Though mine were nowhere near being of the same nature."

"Anger, pain, sorrow...those are parts of being human, too. You shouldn't deny them."

I grin a little. "Of course. I think I understand what it truly means to be human now. I won't curse my birth, not anymore."

"Sounds like you did some growing up," she tilts her head a little, looking at me with the same gentle eyes that made my childish self blush.

"I did, thanks to everyone," I turn my head to witness the apocalyptic spectacle that fills me with calm. "So, how long do I have?"

"Not long," she says sadly. "On the other side...the outcome's inevitable. Unlike Alan, there's no choice but to let go. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for things that were my own doing," I answer. "Tell me, can I go back?"

"The result won't change," Paz says dejectedly, "but yes. You can go back. You just can't change anything."

"You're wrong," I beam. "It'll change everything."

"Hm?"

"Rather than perishing as Liquid Snake," I explain, "I'll die as Eli Coburn. A man with a family, friends, and loved ones. The person I want to be. The person I truly am now."

Her expression is a bright as my own, I know. "Yes, that does change everything. One more thing before you leave, though. I have a message from Kazuhira."

"Uncle Kaz?"

"He says he forgives you."

I close my eyes and see his face again. "...Of course he would."

Something wet falls on my shoulder, but even as the sky falls, there's no rain.

I grit my teeth and fight it. I recall the words Glaz shared with me that day. Has it been a lifetime, or just a couple of minutes ago?

"...I've done horrible things. Things that can never be undone. It's precisely because of it that I must see this through. For the sake of all I hurt selfishly, I must live; truly, truly live, even if only for a few seconds. I won't..."

Fire burns within me, far hotter than the Armageddon unfolding around me.

"...I won't let a single person die in vain!"

 

My shout reaches every corner of the world,

                touching everything that is, ever was, and ever would be.

                                I cannot hear what

Paz is saying, but,

                                she touches my cheek, and the words she utters, I'm sure

                                                                are filled with love and care.

                                                                                                I love Paz

                                                                and I love Uncle Kaz                                                       

                                                and I love Mom

                                                                and I love Dad

                and I love Tretij

                                and the little brother I can never meet

                                I love the Diamond Dogs, I love them all,

                                you're all

                my shining lights.

                                                                                                                                Thank you all.

 

* * *

 

My bare back feels the cold soft of snow.

Smoke from a nearby wreckage fills my nostrils.

My right hand is holding onto something. It's a rifle. I fight against my dying body to release it from my grip. I no longer have need of such things.

I cannot get up, or even move. Through blurred eyes, I can see two figures walking away from me.

I want to stretch my hand out and call out to him. Solid Snake, David, brother...

David, there are so many things worth living for. I want to tell you all about it; about those wonderful days I saw.

I have no voice left. No matter what I do, my words will never reach you.

...It's fine.

I'm certain you don't need me to tell you there's more to life than fighting because we're told to. You'll come to find out in your own.

I believe in you.

The hum of an engine reaches my ears.

I don't have long left.

Hey...has the sky always been this blue?

The sun...has it always been this bright?

My paralyzed body, soon to perish, wills itself one final action.

My hand reaches out to the heavens, to the star burning bright above.

My fingers grasp at it. They want to hold a piece of the sun.

Ah...

This, too, was...

...a wonderful

...world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Meijin Kazuhira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Not yet. It's not over yet."

"The rest is up to you, Eli."

"...Why does it have to be me?! I'm not leaving you!"

I'm pushed off my feet by an unseen force, and I slam against the hard metal of the cabin. The world outside the transport gunship is ablaze, painted the hot orange and red.

Right outside the helicopter's sliding door stands a person, his hair as fiery as the flames that stretch as far as the eye can see, defiant to the end. His is a back I know all too well.

"Now's not the time to be arguing!" he shouts, his splayed fingers the only evidence that he'd been responsible for my displacement. "Please, do this for me!"

I leap to my feet and begin to utter a protest, but I'm halted when I have to catch a black garment. His longcoat, Diamond Dogs issue, rests in my arms.

"You make sure Ray gets that, okay? Now go!!"

The door slides shut, and no matter how much I pull and strain, it won't budge.

His voice comes in through my transmitter. "Pequod, abandon the AO. That's a direct order!"

I can hear a hesitant, strangled cry from the pilot, tuned into the same frequency.

No one said anything for a minute. Then, I felt the rumble of rotors spinning to life, faster and faster.

"...Give them what for, kid," the pilot finally spoke.

"Thank you, Pequod. For everything."

I bang my fist at the bulletproof window.

I scream.

I beg.

I plead.

I can hear Pequod gasping for air, but he doesn't stop the preparations for takeoff.

My brother turns his head over his shoulder, as the vehicle slowly inches above the ground below.

"This is something that only Tretij Coburn can do. Eli, there's things only you can do, too. I'm leaving those to you."

I hit the glass even harder.

"TRETIJ.... **TRETIJ**!!"

He walks into the raging inferno, and that back I knew disappears into flames.

 

* * *

The world is so bright.

That same world I'd cursed once is....so, so bright.

I breathe.

Somehow, I've come back.

The sea breeze gently touches my skin and ruffles my hair. It's a wonderful sensation, being alive.

I rise to my feet, throwing Tretij's coat over my shoulder as I do so. In the distance, I spy a weathered image plastered on the side of a large industrial-like structure extending upwards. Despite the chipped paint, I recognize it as the emblem of the Diamond Dogs.

Making my way through the dilapidated facility, I reach the conclusion this must've been a Forward Operating Base used by the Diamond Dogs back in the day, long since abandoned.

In other words, I was stuck in the middle of the ocean. Great. Some of my cheerfulness evaporates, giving way to the strain of frustration on the back of my neck.

...I really have to do something about my temper.

I exhale deeply and let it go. I need to make myself useful.

In my mind, I can almost hear Tretij saying something like 'come on, it'll be an adventure', and the thought moves me enough for a pang of longing to strike my chest.

I take a moment to examine the coat I've slung over my shoulder until now. I don't have any photographs of Tretij or anything like that on me, so this is all I have left of his.

It's taken a beating and it's a little torn in some places, but it can definitely be fixed. I better restore it before I pass it on to its new owner.

I contemplate putting it on, being that all I'm wearing is a pair of cargo pants and boots, but I decide against it. That'd just be unpleasant in this tropical weather.

Wait, there's a bulge in one of the pockets.

I decide to check it out.

From the pocket, I produce a roughly rectangular object with smooth corners. It's a case for a pair of glasses I'd seen before. I recognize it from some designer's logo, a circular symbol with a 'k' slightly off center.

Curiosity drives me to part it open.

Naturally, there's a pair of glasses inside, but I cannot make out much of them as they're under a microfiber cloth. There's also a note, taped to the upper lid.

Eli, I was asked to pass this on to you, too.

When I lift the cloth, I'm met by Uncle Kaz' aviators.

I sigh, and then grin a little putting the case in my own pocket.

The base still has electricity, and some equipment's still in working order. Most importantly, I discover the old DD radio frequencies remain active.

Pequod's so shaken to hear from me, I can hear him crying on the other end.

I'm glad to hear your voice too.

I kill time surveying the remains of the main platform, and the sun is starting to set by the time I spy the silhouette of a gunship growing bigger and bigger, closer and closer.

I must say I was not expecting other company.

An old man descends from the aircraft, clearly struggling as he does. His grey-white hair reaches just past his neck, and his thick moustache distracts somewhat from the marred flesh on the left side of his face, unquestionably the result of burns. He walks aided by a cane, something I never expected from him.

He was followed by a lean man wearing corrective glasses, his dark brown hair slightly flared. I recognize the man as Emmerich. He's flanked by a young girl, a hairpin of a blue rose in her platinum blonde strands. She eyes me warily, with guarded movements that put the men between me and her. Smart girl. I like her already.

The old man with the scarred face halts a couple of feet from me. Between him and me, there's this invisible barrier built on past hostility that can never be truly torn down, yet there's also the grim understanding between two professional soldiers.

"Snake," I greet. Solid Snake, the man who defeated me a lifetime ago, grunts.

"Liquid," he shoots back, eyes narrowing. Despite his physical age getting to him, he still has a lot of fight left in him, that much is clear.

"Just Eli's fine. So, what brings you here?"

"That guy told us," Snake pointed a thumb behind him, towards Pequod, "so I wanted to confirm it myself."

That's right, Pequod had mentioned knowing David and Emmerich. He'd worked for the NGO those two founded...Philanthropy, was it? Later, after the organization officially ceased to be, he'd remain in their employ as the pilot of their transport plane.

I shrug dismissively. "Not every day the dead come back to life, eh?"

Snake grunts again, ever the picture of stoicism. "No."

An awkward silence grows between us. I decide to break it with the first question that comes to mind.

"So, how long has it been?"

It's just small talk, and I mean nothing by it.

His response, however, is anything but.

"Two months since that incident."

I wasn't expecting important information to come from a throwaway question. To me, it couldn't have been more than a day since I came back, but quite a bit of time has passed.

That meant...

Pequod's made his way to where we stand, so I turn to him and ask him.

"...Where's Ray?"

He shakes his head, and unease fills me. My throat runs dry.

"Dishonorably discharged from Londo Bell. Left for somewhere after his court martial, nobody knows where."

A small measure of relief washes over me. He's still alive. For a moment, I feared the worst.

I recall there was a time I wouldn't care if any other person lived or died. Now the thought of losing my youngest brother terrifies me.

I try not think about his other circumstances. I don't know much about 'Londo Bell' either, just that it was the paramilitary organization Ray had been part of.

"Pequod," I call out. "It's great to see you again."

"You too, Young Boss."

I smirk. Despite only having gotten to properly meet the man properly during the 'incident', it felt like we'd known each other a lifetime.

Granted, he had to remember the malcontent brat I'd been, after all I put the Diamond Dogs through.

Even so, the man was the happiest person to see me here. It makes my chest hurt a little.

I take a step forward and give the man a squeeze, and he doesn't hesitate in returning the gesture.

"There's something you should see," Pequod says as we break off the greeting. "Follow me."

He's not walking towards the chopper. Instead, he's heading further into the platform, towards where the command building is.

Whatever it is he wants to show me, it's here.

"You knew about this?" I ask Snake as I point at Pequod, who is well outside of earshot, with my thumb.

"First I hear of it."

* * *

  

The hidden hangar stretches out endlessly. It's a base of its own, hidden deep in the ocean floor. There's vehicles, weapon racks, and assorted gear as far as the eye can see. It had to be as big, if not bigger, than the ruined facility above sea level.

"This is..."

"Just one of many depots we Diamond Dogs still have scattered around," Pequod explained. "Pretty much every FOB of ours has one of these."

That explains why there's still power running in the building above. Can't access the elevator if there's no electricity.

"There's enough firepower here to stock an army..." I hear Emmerich utter.

"Well, that's kind of what we were," Pequod gives Emmerich a reassuring pat on the back. "...When the Diamond Dogs disbanded again, Boss decided to put everything under lock and key, in case it was ever needed again. Eli, I thought you should be aware of it, because I have a pretty good idea of what your next step might be."

I caught Pequod's implication immediately.

I was going to be looking for Ray. We'd need resources, equipment, and personnel to conduct such a search.

Then there's Ray himself. From what I gather, he'd been in command of a pretty large group. He's not really a soldier, though. He's... something else entirely.

I know him. He's not going to stop fighting. Be it by himself, or with an organization to back him up. Properly equipped, or with just his two fists and little else.

"Reactivating the Diamond Dogs, one more time..." I think out loud. "It's not a decision to be taken lightly."

Pequod throws his arms up. "Of course, but hey, maybe third time's the charm. Just remember, this belongs to you and the kid."

"...I need to think about it."

Despite his eagerness, Pequod nods in understanding.

"Um...hey."

Emmerich's next to me, and while he's clearly somewhat nervous, it's written on his face that he needs something. I suppose that's progress - back in Shadow Moses, my presence alone would be enough to paralyze him.

Shadow Moses...my mind wanders a bit, back to my bid at creating my very own Outer Heaven, just because I wanted to succeed where Big Boss had failed. Snake defeated me then, putting an end to my ambition. The ‘me’ of today is glad he did.

"Hal, right?" I make a point of calling him by his given name. "You want to say something?"

He tenses, but he nonetheless stands his ground. "I want to run some tests on you. Medical tests, I mean," he taps a silver attaché case he's been carrying all this time.

That's not a half-bad idea. This body of mine is an anomaly, to say the least, and I don't have the foggiest on what to expect from it. "A check-up sounds good."

"There are some dormitories that way you could use," Pequod points away from us. "Just keep going that way, you can't miss 'em."

We follow his directions and we step into one of the rooms. I sit on a bed, and Emmerich wraps my upper arm with a tourniquet. He then disinfects above my elbow joint before plunging a syringe in that same spot with practiced, professional ease.

"I thought you were an engineer?" I note as I bend my forearm upwards after he was done, holding a cotton ball in place with my flesh.

"When you're around someone like Snake, you need to learn a bit of everything," he jabs the needle into the rubber core of an otherwise plastic cap covering a thin, cylindrical vial. My blood is drained from the syringe and pours into the container.

"Okay, now open your mouth," he says, and I do as I'm told. He runs a cotton swab across my inner cheek, and he stores the sample carefully in a plastic bag.

He continues running similar procedures for the next couple of minutes, with a little small talk in between. Emmerich seems to be doing well for himself, all things considered.

"So," I eventually cock my head towards the room's entrance. "That your daughter?"

I hear a tiny 'eep!' as the girl, nowhere near as stealthy as she thought she was, fumbles away from the doorframe before finally accepting she'd been caught peeking. She leans halfway into the room, her gloved hands resting on the portal's edge.

"Sunny!" Hal calls out. "Don't go around spying on people!"

I raise my hand, requesting the man cut her some slack. "Hey, young lady," I say. "You were worried for your dad, weren't you?"

She nods, because of course that's what it was.

"Hey, you can hardly blame her, right?" I grin, before standing and theatrically waving my arms and ending with me shaking a fist. "After all, I'm a _suuuuuuuuuuuuupervillain_!"

The desired effect was achieved. The girl couldn't resist, and she broke down into a fit of laughter. I could see Emmerich, too, doing his best to hold back his own guffaw. The tension from earlier evaporated in a blink.

"That's so lame!" she giggles, holding her stomach. "...Are you really Liquid Snake?"

"Yes and no. That's who I once was, a long time ago. Sunny, was it? I'm Eli Coburn. Nice to meet you."

The lass wipes a tear from her eye, which no longer hold any apprehension towards me. "Likewise!"

"Sunny, we're almost done here. Why don't you go and tell Snake?" Emmerich says.

"Sure thing!" She salutes spiritedly with grandiose vigour, and pivots on her heel. In but a second, she's gone.

"She's a good kid." I mutter.

He tries not to show it, but he's definitely swelling with paternal pride. "The best."

 

* * *

It was already night outside, and as per Pequod's insistence, we decide not to leave the FOB until the next morning. It’s not because he'd have any problems flying us through the dark skies, but rather...

"Marshmallows. Really," Snake deadpanned.

We were back on the surface, stars above ever so bright. It brings back memories of gazing at them with Tretij and Ray in a place that never was, but I try not to be overtaken by reminiscence.

"Marshmallows! We used to roast them all the time, back when the Boss and Chico were in charge."

Does he always carry kindling in the helicopter's cargo hold, or did he specifically prepare it before coming here? Not to mention the camping chairs... No matter, the reality was that he'd started a campfire and given each of us roasting sticks.

I skewer one of the white globs and hold it over the fire. When I bring it to my mouth, it's pleasantly warm, a little crunchy outside and oh so gooey inside. This is great!

We bask in the warmth of the fire as the time flies by. Stories are shared, mostly by Pequod. For the record, he's terrible at ghost stories.

Hal Emmerich, on the other hand, is a pretty good storyteller. Granted, his weren't particularly scary either, but they were all engrossingly interesting.

Then again, considering I'm one step removed from a ghost, maybe it's just hard for me to be rattled by such tales.

The last story is punctuated by a yawn. Sunny stretches her tired body; clearly it was past the preteen's bedtime.

"Want to sleep?" Hal asks. She nods her weary head.

"Let's take her down to bed," Pequod stands. "We'll be back in a bit."

That leaves just Snake and me, sitting near the gentle flames.

An uncanny silence settles between us.

Once upon a time, we were sworn foes. As long as one lived, the other had to die. If that enmity had been a raging fire, though, now only its ashes remained.

"So," I utter, defying the quiet.

"So," he mutters back.

I stare into the fire, as if trying to find answers within the swaying blaze.

"...I knew you'd be able to do it," I settle on saying.

"What do you mean?"

You managed to find another way to live, other than the battlefield.

That's what’s on my mind, but I don't say anything. Instead, I leave my seat and plop myself down on the ground next to his chair. Wordlessly, I poke another marshmallow, and he does the same. We hold them over the fire, like we've done several times tonight.

Yes, this situation's definitely awkward, but it's also comforting in its strangeness.

"Liq-Eli," he starts, correcting himself as he does. "Are you going to follow up on Pequod's suggestion?"

"I don't know," I admit, bringing another piece of gummy goodness to my mouth. "I'm thinking about it. I've lead others to die for nothing but my own hubris. Killed others for something as meaningless as selfish ambition."

I see Uncle Kaz in my mind. No, not just him. I see all the lives I've callously stolen.

Ralph, the boy at Mother Base, back when I first met dad. I made a so-called accident happen, just to further my own ends.

The Genome Soldiers and FOXHOUND. My men, my command, and I sent them to die without a care.

Snake's friend, Frank Jaeger, who made my defeat possible with his sacrifice.

I can see them all. I can feel them all.

Words from a distant, fleeting paradise echo in my mind. The words I shouted at the end of nothing, at the end of my everything.

'I won't let a single person die in vain.'

I think of Tretij, who is defiant to the end...and what he entrusted me with.

The elderly Snake must've noticed something. "What is it?"

"Sorry. Just thinking."

"Right," he says. "There's something I want to ask of you. A favor."

"...What is it?"

He leans in towards the fire, the luminescence lost in every wrinkle. "I shouldn't have long left. My life expectancy was a year at best. We're in overtime - this is year five."

I smirk. "We _Enfants Terribles_ just absolutely refuse to die, don't we?"

Snake gave a low chuckle. "I thought I killed you at least five times over during Shadow Moses."

"Four," I raise a hand with the same number of fingers splayed, "but who's counting?"

"Heh. Whatever you say. Anyways, I don't know how much time I got, but it can't be much more. When I'm gone...please make sure to keep an eye on Otacon and Sunny."

I close my eyes. "Are you sure you want to ask me, of all people, to do that?"

He doesn't answer. "Can you do it?"

"You didn't need to ask. I was already planning on doing it."

Snake snorts. "Really now?"

"It's the least I can do."

He seems content to accept my answer, and leave it at that. We enjoy a bit more of that disquietingly pleasant quiet once more.

"...This is good, isn't it?" Snake says.

I can't tell if he's referring to the marshmallows or that we can sit next to each other under the starry nocturne, neither of us needing to worry about violence. Maybe it's both, maybe it isn't either.

I answer regardless, from the bottom of my heart.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

 

* * *

I'm not shy about asking for favors of my own, and my welcoming committee doesn't mind accommodating.

That's how I manage to reach the Alaskan mainland.

The turtleneck sweater itches against my neck. The cold doesn't ever bother me, but I'd be too conspicuous if I were to go around wearing only a trenchcoat and nothing underneath, and the last thing I want to do is attract attention.

I eventually reach the place I came here to visit. The graveyard's gates are tall and imposing, solemnly indicating this is the final resting place for many souls.

I've come to pay my respects.

It's a long, winding road, but I manage to find what I was looking for.

 

_McDonell Benedict Miller_

_May Peace Always Be By Your Side_

_1946 - 2005_

 

A knot forms on my throat. From my perspective, the last time I saw him was just days ago. In truth, he's been resting here for fifteen years.

I want to speak to him again. I want to see him laugh again. I want him to get angry again, so hot-headed nothing could cool him. Then I want him to shrug it all off, like he always did. I want to eat his burgers again, together with Tretij and Ray. I want him to take us somewhere breathtaking again.

I want to see him again, but I can't, and it's all because of who I was. His blood's on my hands.

I place my shaking hand on the gravestone, remembering a time past that never was. I don't know if I stay like that for minutes, hours, or days.

I only return when someone pulls be back. "Excuse me...who are you?"

I turn around and a slender woman is staring at me. Her short hair's cherry blonde, and her calm blue eyes study my face with great care. 

"You look just like..." she mutters in disbelief, "...hey, you wouldn't happen to be his son, right?"

I'm blindsided by the question and cannot process it at first. When it finally hits me, though, I can't help but laugh. "No, no! I'm not! This is the first I hear of Uncle Kaz having a son!"

"He was just a womanizer, I wouldn't put it past him," she sighed. "But uncle?"

"Right, he's not really my _uncle_. He was close friends with my father, so I just called him that," I extend my hand to her. "Eli Coburn. It's nice to meet you."

"Coburn, huh? That sounds familiar." She reaches out with her own limb, and we share a handshake. "Catherine Miller. It's nice to meet you, Eli."

I try hard not to think how I stole this woman's father from her, but I must've failed terribly.

 "...You look sad," she says.

"Just...thinking about Uncle Kaz, is all."

She smiles melancholic. "My father taught a lot of people, but this is the first time I meet someone else here; and trust me, I come here quite often."

"That's just how soldiers are," I say. "Master Miller was respected and cherished despite how harsh he was, or perhaps because of it."

She tilts her head a little. "You sound like you speak from experience. Are you a soldier, too?"

"Not anymore," I answer wistfully.

 

* * *

She persuades me to come along with her after we're done visiting Kaz. Her house is not far, and she wants to share stories of her father. She hasn't had the chance to do so in a long while, and she wouldn't do so standing out in the cold.

Her residence isn't particularly large, but it isn't small either. She beckons me to sit down on the living room table, and I do so as she disappears into the kitchen. She returns with a round container, setting it down in front of me. It's a carrier housing strawberry cheesecake.

"Dad's favorite," she says. "Or so he claimed."

We both cut off our slices, placing them in small plates. Then, I bring a spoonful of the cake to my mouth. I'm almost mystified by how amazing it is.

"This is great!"

She grins from across the table, her cheek resting on her fist. "I'm glad you like it. I'm a pâtissier, so otherwise that’d be a wound to my pride."

"A pastry chef, huh?"

"Pâ-ti-ssier!” she wags a finger. “It sounds far more elegant that way."

As we delight in the sweet confection, she regales stories of her father. Fishing trips, barbeques, the first time she baked for him, and how she kept wanting to improve and eventually ended up shaping her choice of future career. For the most part, I listened, as she had a lot of tales to tell and until now, she had nobody to share them with. She didn't know any relatives from her father's side, and her mother wasn't particularly keen on talking about the man she had a disastrous divorce with.

Naturally, every once in a while I share a little of my own experiences with him. "That sounds like dad, all right!"

Time just flew by as we spoke of the man Kazuhira Miller had been.

"Come on," she stands from the table. "Let me show you something."

We head towards the end of the hallway, and she opens the door to what appears to be a study. Said study was...

"I brought some of the belongings from his home with me. I have them here."

Old photographs decorated the walls. I'm pretty sure I see a young David in one. The shelves are lined with assorted knick-knacks of Kaz's storied military career.

My eyes, however, are fixed at a specific item. Without thinking, I pick it up, transfixed. It's a beret I'd seen many times before.

"...You should keep that."

"I couldn't," I answer, but she gazes at me gently, and says:

"Eli, if you could see your face right now, you'd understand why I'm letting you take it."

Ah. I suppose I cannot refuse her offer.

"Thank you," is all I can say.

"You know," she begins. "I always liked my father's birth name. Kazuhira, it meant 'peace'. I suppose it was ironic, considering his life was always filled with war and fighting. I wonder if he changed it because of that,” she sighs in contemplation. "I just hope wherever he is now, he's found that peace he never had."

I hold the hat close to my chest. "He did. I know he did."

 

* * *

I make my way back to my hotel through dimly-lit streets, empty as empty can be, no doubt due to the bone-chilling weather.

I've almost arrived at the building when one of my coat pockets vibrates. I retrieve a phone from within.

"Coburn speaking," I answer the call, placing the device to my ear.

"This is Emmerich," the voice on the other end of the receiver says. "I've finished running the tests I told you about."

"Something I should know?" I say. A sense of foreboding settles in my stomach.

"You're not going to believe this," says Emmerich, and I also hear the sound of shuffling papers. "I wanted to verify something, since I found something peculiar with Snake after the incident."

"What's that?"

"The indicators for accelerated aging are just...gone, in both of you. In Snake's case, it doesn't make as much of a difference. There's no way to turn back the clock on how much he's already aged. The effects had significantly slowed down already, too, so it was little more than an interesting observation. However, in your case, it changes everything."

"...It means I should age normally from now on."

"Your body is that of a healthy male in his early thirties. Looks like you still have a whole life ahead of you."

I sigh in relief. "Great. That means I have enough time to do what I need to." I take a deep breath. "There's something I've wanted to tell you, too."

"Really? What's that?" Hal sounds puzzled.

"Otacon, thank you for everything, and...thank you for looking after David. For being the brother I never could be."

For a while, despite the call still being open, not a single word is exchanged between us.

"...You've really changed, haven't you?" Hal finally says.

 "Look who's talking. You're in no way the same researcher I met fifteen years ago. Goodbye, Otacon. If you ever need anything, I'll be there for you and Sunny both."

I hang up, walk past the hotel reception's automatic doors, and take the elevator to my room.

When I step in and turn on the lights, I'm confronted with a full-body mirror I hadn’t spared a second thought for standing across the doorway.

I'd forgotten I'd placed the beret on my head on my way back, so for a moment, I confused my reflection with an entirely different person.

I _do_ resemble him, as Catherine said. I do resemble Uncle Kaz. It should come as no surprise, being that I impersonated him once before, back in Shadow Moses.

...I retrieve another item from my pockets. It's that set of aviator sunglasses I found in Tretij's coat earlier.

I put them on.

The person who stares at me from the other side of the mirror is not Liquid Snake, nor Eli Coburn. It's Kazuhira Miller.

No, Kazuhira Miller was gone. All that remained...was a phantom.

Phantom...

Like my father before me, a phantom for someone else.

No, the person standing there is not Kazuhira Miller. Not Liquid Snake, and not just Eli Coburn. The person standing there is me, the me of today. The me who's all of those, and none of them.

I cannot undo my actions, and normally you cannot bring the dead back to life. If I came back, and if I have as much time left as Otacon said, it's going to be for something.

I'll be a phantom, too. Not for a single person, though.

The people I've harmed. The people I've scarred. The blood in my hands.

I'll be the phantom of their hopes and dreams, of their never-ending tomorrow. The phantom of their wish for peace, whether they were aware of it or not.

Kazuhira, Master Miller. I was never going to be him, but I'll pay him tribute. I'll pay them all tribute.

'Meijin Kazuhira', Eli Coburn. That's the man I am now.

I've made my decision.

I must bring them back.

From the ashes of time, the ever-brilliant diamonds.

 

* * *

 

 **[EPILOGUE: Meijin Kazuhira | The Memory of Proud Phantoms** ]

 

* * *

 

"This many recruits, so soon?" I like to think of myself as cool and collected, but these numbers were so shocking I couldn't contain myself. "We just started preparations a couple of days ago!"

The head instructor, Flaming Buffalo, tittered a bit. She was a true veteran of the Diamond Dogs, much like Pequod, and from the way she moved and carried herself, you wouldn't be able to tell her age. "Is it really that surprising, Meijin?"

"It...it's not just surprising. It's overwhelming, really."

She crosses her arms and gazes longingly at the emblem of the Diamond Dogs painted on the wall. "It's not unexpected. These are the people who already heard the outfit once led by Phantom Snake, the Saint of Soldiers, was returning. We're bound to receive a lot more applicants soon," she shifts a little. "...The Diamond Dogs mean a lot to many others out there, too. It's the sort of gratitude that won't fade with time."

"You'll have to regale me the exploits of the Second Incarnation sometime," I say, standing from my desk, leaving a mountain of paperwork behind. "For now, though, I need to focus on affairs for the Third. Can you handle recruit-related affairs for me the next few days?"

"I don't mind, but where are you going?" she asks.

"I received some information and there’s someone I believe might have returned, just like me. A strong ally, and a good friend. I want to ask him to join us."

 

* * *

It looks just like the photographs I received from that girl. I recognize the church, as worn down as everything else in this place. The structure has not just fallen into disrepair, it was a veritable ruin, in every sense of the word...when I saw it last, it was pristine and well-kept.

When I head into the structure, moonlight filters from an unintended opening in the ceiling. It illuminates a patch of greenery growing in the soil where wooden floorboards had broken off. The silvery glow highlights the vivid yellow petals of the flowers.

The man I was looking for was tending to the flowers, as I thought he'd be.

"...I was wondering if you had come back, too," he says, turning to face me.

His clothes are naught but rags. His long hair, once reaching past his back, has been carelessly cut to shoulder length. I can see quite a bit of dark stubble growing on his face, too.

I sit on the front bench, my arms stretched atop the backrest. "There's talk in the slums about a man claiming to have no name residing in this church. Knew it had to be you."

"I'm just taking care of what little remains," he turns back, crouches, and continues to tend to the plants, and I watch him work. Eventually, he's satisfied, and stands to face me.

"Tell me something, Eli," he begins. "...Why was it me that came back?"

I say nothing, and wait for him to continue.

"I was the worst. I did horrible, unspeakable things. There's no atoning for what I've done. I was nothing but a heartless butcher who saw human lives as worth less than dirt. But when faced with one of my victims, I..." I can see the hurt etched on his face, and he struggles to find the words. "...she pushed me, she pushed me into the light, and gave me this."

He motioned at the one piece of his outfit, if you could call it that, which remained pristine. It was a pink ribbon, tied around his upper arm.

"I don't understand. I don't deserve a second chance. So why me? Why not one of them? Why not her?"

It was my turn to speak. I wait for him to settle down a little, first.

"It's not about atonement," I say. "That's not possible for us. Remember, you're not the only one who tried to set the world on fire, once upon a time. It's not about deserving, either. Someone who cared about you wanted you to live more than they cared about themselves. That's all."

In my mind, I watch Tretij walk into that burning hellscape.

"All we can do...is live the sort of life that makes their sacrifice worth it," I finish.

He frowns, clearly mulling over what I said. "Is that how you deal?"

"For the most part, yes. I'm going to make this life worth something. Tell me, will you let her die for nothing?"

"...No."

I lean forward. "I'm here with a proposition."

"I figured there had to be a reason you're dressed like you're Commander Miller. The Diamond Dogs, right?"

"I'm putting it back together, yes. Are you with me?"

He brandishes the closest thing he can to a grin. "I was with you the moment you walked in."

 

* * *

"-we've ported what research we had on the Soldat System, and combined it with design implementations from our reverse engineering of Sample F, namely its Photon Blood distribution pathways. The end result should be a superhuman augmentation in combat capabilities for the user; not quite on par with Sample F, but unlike the former, it's theoretically safe for human use."

I'm absolutely lost, but I nod regardless, as if I somehow understood all that explanation. In truth, I zoned out about fifty words in. I'm a very smart person, but around these R&D types, I feel like a numbskull.

It doesn’t escape her that my gestures are but platitudes. "You didn't understand anything, did you?" the redheaded researcher glares at me with such intensity, I'm pretty certain lesser men would start crying.

"...You got me. As expected of a genius of your caliber, Lynx. Nothing gets past you."

"Don't think flattery’s going to get you anywhere!" She jabs an accusatory finger right at me. "If you make someone spend this much time explaining, you could at least do your best to follow along!"

"Cut him some slack," another redhead waves his wrench around, not bothering to turn away from his workbench. "You went into some high-level concepts hardly anyone is familiar with."

"Hmph, whatever," she shrugs. "Okay, basically, the Diamond Driver does exactly what you requested it to do."

"See? Isn't that better," the other researcher says, back still to us.

"Grr...I'm going to see if dummkopf has anything worth eating."

She stomps out of the lab, and when she's well out of sight, I release a sigh of relief.

"I'm starting to feel sorry for that guy."

The other researcher finally shifts to face me. "Don't, he knows how to handle her. It's like watching a ferocious tiger turn into a mewling kitten."

"I can hardly picture that."

He chuckles. "Still, if she's willing to show that temperamental side around you, it means she trusts you. So you've got that going for you."

Is that good or bad? I don't get to ask, because at that moment, the Nameless Soldier I recruited back at the church walks in. Not content with simply renouncing his name, he now wore a reinforced balaclava with nothing but two eyeholes to conceal his face.

I'd appointed him my personal aide too, so there was that.

He seemed rather agitated. Whatever reason he had for coming here, it was important.

"Meijin, briefing room, now."

"What happened?!"

"They found him. They found your brother."

 

* * *

"Descent Point, LLOI-201113. Tokyo, Japan. We've confirmed the presence of the VIP."

Trepidation settles on my spine. "Whatever's going on there, Ray's definitely in the thick of it. Has Ayane managed to make contact with him?"

"Negative. She reported a full-scale combat situation in her last transmission. She lost visual in the confusion."

"Things are really heating up..." Buffalo mutters. "Not a peep from Londo Bell, either."

 "Prepare to mobilize. I'm going to hand-pick a team to put boots on the ground together with me," I declare, examining a touchscreen embedded into the podium. It contains information on our personnel, and I begin to select my candidates.

"Sir, is this going to be an exfil op?" the briefer asks. He's a new recruit, as are most of the Supports and Logistics team. Naturally, he isn't aware of the implication most present are already aware of.

"Negative. Such a mission would be impossible to accomplish."

The rookie's obviously taken aback. "W-what do you mean, sir?"

I grin proudly. "There's no way Ray would agree to extraction, not while there are civilians that need help."

The recruit's eyes widen with wonder, like a child who just got the Christmas present he always wanted. I hate to admit it, but inside, I'm tearing up a little. "I-is our Boss really that sort of person?"

"That's exactly who he is. As I said, an extraction is out of the question, so we're looking at a support intervention operation. Alpha Team will be on me. Bravo Team is to find operative Ayane and later rendezvous with Alpha. The rest of our assets are to divide themselves among strategic locations, cooperating with the JSDF and local law enforcement to evacuate and set up safe locations for the civilian population. The use of Level-2 Equipment is authorized."

"Yes, sir!"

"Diamond Dogs," I raise my clenched fist defiantly at the future. "it's time for us to shine."

 

* * *

 

**[BUTTERFLY EFFECT]**

 

* * *

"...! You...you're..."

"It's been a while, little brother."

"Eli? But how?!"

"I don't know, either. All I know is I'm here right now, and no, you're not dreaming or hallucinating."

"I'm not too sure about that last part...you're dressed up like Uncle Kaz..."

"Yeah, no, that's intentional. Long story short, the Diamond Dogs are back in business."

"You brought them back? …Why?"

"Because you're going to need them, of course. Just like you're going to need this. We call it the Diamond Driver. It's a prototype that hasn't been tested yet, but that's not going to stop you, is it?"

"I...I can't accept this. I'm not fit for it. I can't lead, either."

"You never had a problem with it before."

"...I failed them, Eli. I failed them all. For all my talk about justice and defending the innocent, I selfishly ran away without care. I can't do this anymore. I was just a child, playing pretend."

"You know how many of your friends have joined us, because they refuse to work under someone other than you?"

"That's beside the point..."

"No, it's exactly the point. You made a mistake; a terrible one, yes. But even so, life goes on, and you owe it to them to forgive yourself a little. Plus, you know, it's because of your mistake that I'm even here."

"But... But Eli. I'll just be a fake. I’m not worthy of the title."

"I don't think those people over there care about authenticity. They're calling out your name just the same. So here, take it."

"..."

"Maybe you weren't the righteous hero you thought you were. That doesn't matter."

“Eli…”

“Not yet, Ray. It’s not over yet. There are still things only you can do, like saving the now.”

"...I'll do it. Give it to me."

"That's what I like to hear. Welcome back... _Kamen Rider_."


	9. Re: To All Diamonds...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ours is a battle to protect everything and everyone. We can't allow ourselves to lose. So let's go. From now on, the future is in our hands."

I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.

Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion...

I've watched C-Beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate.

All those moments...lost in time...

...like tears in rain.

_-Roy Batty, Nexus-6 Replicant, to Blade Runner Rick Deckard._

_Existential State ID DOEL- 196882, Local Calendar 2019 AD_

 

* * *

 

A world of pure white stretches before him, as far as the eye can see.

Ray has always found the sensation of wet snow crunching sonorously beneath his boots calming, perhaps even peaceful. The rumbling cacophony of gunfire and explosions in the distance, however, reaffirms there's no serenity to be found here.

Even so, he traverses the frozen ground one step at a time, his pace almost leisurely. He's a stain against the forest clearing's otherwise immaculate canvas, clad head to toe in the blacks and grays of kevlar and reinforced plates. A tattered scarf, vivid red, breaks the dark palette. The old thing has seen far better days, but it continues to dance softly against the chilling winds, undeterred. It's not alone in its attempt to give the sable figure some color - two large orbs, jeweled and resembling the compound eyes of an insect, glow a gentle blue where his face should be. They sit atop a full helmet hiding his countenance from the world, and warding him from the biting cold.

His mask is a sleek, sharp thing. It evokes the appearance of a grasshopper's head, yet is far less oval. Jagged edges overlap a far more conventional mouthpiece, emulating jaws.  It's the symbol of a heroic legacy, one Ray felt he was no longer deserving to be a part of. Regardless, he continued to wear the mask, not for his own sake, but for those who would find even the faintest glimmer of hope in it.

Like he'd done, people would believe in ‘Kamen Rider’...even a counterfeit, like himself, had some merits.

The fighting was drawing closer. He doesn't need the spatial information displayed in his suit's HUD to tell him that.

He comes to a stop. Something lazily floats down from above. It's not alone, and soon more and more crystals drift towards the ground.

"...It's snowing."

"What's that, Boss?" A female voice crackles from within his earpiece.

Ray shakes his head despite the solitude. "It's nothing. Just a little nostalgia."

He doesn't have time for basking in memories.

"...Have the Wolves fall back to Sector A5, hunker down and put on their gas masks. Reroute Emerald and Whitewing Squadrons to those coordinates. Mobile Suits and other mechanized ground vehicles are to hold their fire and serve as cover for our ground troops. Have air support let loose their sleep gas payloads. That'll thin out the enemy's ranks and help our men advance. Got all that?"

The operator voices her affirmation and his battle plans begin to reflect in his overhead display. A blinking dot comes to life.

He begins walking again, this time his movement far more deliberate. He slides a gloved hand beneath his coat, a sable Diamond Dogs issue garment overlapping his battle-suit and almost blending into it. He grasps the unmistakable textured handle of his revolver, ready to unholster it at a moment's notice.

An unassuming concrete building comes to view, conspicuous in its isolation. Joker's already running interference around the main entrance, and the facility's guard detail is converging there. It's easy for Ray to rip open a hole in the chain-link fence with strength augmented by his battle gear and sneak around in back.

"Whitewing Squadron, new bombing target," Ray whispers as he taps the side of his helmet. In his vision, a chevron marks the wall he was gazing at, product of his suit's augmented reality interface.

He dashes towards a waist-high concrete barrier with frightening speed and vaults it. He presses his back tightly against the obstacle, sitting on the ground, using it as cover.

An X-Wing flies low, two VF-1 Valkyries following in close formation. The roaring of their engines is muted by the sounds of fighting close by. The X-Wing leading the formation releases its payload, and a breaching rocket zooms towards its marked target.

The explosion tells Ray it's time to move, and he makes a run for it. As he advances, the VF-1s launch rocket-propelled canisters of soporific gas into the building, the sickly blue fumes harmless thanks to the filters in his helmet.

In a matter of seconds, the guard's numbers have been reduced significantly. Those still standing after the blast and gas attack were the few quick and distant enough to don their filtered masks.

But even they cannot see through the thick fumes like he can. All they can make out is two shining glows amidst the darker blue, darting to and fro, trailed by light. They fire their rifles towards where the intruder should be, but they hit nothing.

Instead, a yell, and a sickening crunch.

Then another.

And another.

An M4 rifle slides across the concrete floor, coming to a stop when it collides with one of the guards' boots. His only other remaining ally audibly gulps.

"You two, we can do this either the easy or the hard way," those two infernal orbs were staring right at them...

"Take off your masks and go to sleep, that's the easy wa-" of course, Ray knew they were going to shoot, but it was easier to make an opening by appearing unguarded in his attempt at diplomacy. So he pivots, lunging around their blind side, and grasps at the barrel of one of the rifles.

"Yeah, thought so."

He rips the weapon from the soldier's hands and effortlessly spins both him and the soldier in a grapple, his victim's feet tangling with his own and going off-balance. He slams him against his remaining ally, who with a yelp goes crashing into the wall. Both go out cold in that single strike.

His current location is clear, for now. He uses one of the suit's functions to scan his downed opponents. Medical readouts pop into his vision, including several ECGs. None of them seem to be in a life-threatening condition, but he notices that one of the combatants nearest to his entry point had severe swelling in his thigh.

A closer look, and a change of his Survival Viewer's scan mode later, Ray had confirmed the presence of a closed femoral fracture.

Wordlessly, he cuts open the injured man's pant leg with his knife, reduces the fracture, and sets the limb on a splint he procured from the medical field kit strapped to the back of his waist. That should prevent permanent injury.

Sheathing the blade, he draws several thin, long cylinders that fit between his fingers. He walks further into the complex, turning here and there, meeting no resistance. He knows it won't be long until he does. Soon, he stands in front of a sturdy automatic door, an access panel to its side.

Spotting a ventilation passage on the ground far too small for a person to crawl into, he gently lobs one of the cylinders within. Holding his iDroid Mk. IV to his side, Ray ushers the command that makes the Decoy Drone come to life. The contraption rolls around inside the shaft, steered by his wireless control. It emerges on the other side of the vent, and Ray counts five guards in his camera feed. Their weapons are leveled at the only entrance, expecting him. 

He jams a device into the keycard slot of the panel, and he can see the guards on the other side of the doorway tense, ready to strike.

So he sprung his trap. "Hey there, fellas."

They all turned towards the source of the voice and pulled the trigger as soon as they saw a roughly human-shaped silhouette.

Big mistake. That only saved Ray the trouble of having to activate the flashbang detonation remotely.

He rushes in like lightning, nonlethally neutralizing the blinded and deafened guard detail in mere moments. 

All that remained was to retrieve their prize.

Aside from the downed men, the only other object of note within the chamber was a spartan metal table, near the farthest right corner. Atop it sits a plastic rectangle, two perforations not thicker than a pen set horizontally across its middle. He immediately recognizes the handwriting on the label.

 

_To All Diamonds, The Lights of Tomorrow_

 

"You got it?" A familiar voice speaks from the entryway.

Ray jiggles the cassette tape in his hand as he turns around. "Yeah."

Spike's youthful countenance beams at him. "All right, time to mosey, Boss. Shinji's waiting outside, come on."

Before following, Ray gives the object one final glance, before revealing the well-kept Walkman hidden under his coat and strapped to his belt. Popping open the lid of the silver player that had once belonged to his father, he inserts the tape and snaps it shut.

He doesn't press Play, though. It's not yet time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading Butterfly Effect.
> 
> As you can imagine, this is just the beginning.
> 
> The Diamond Dogs will return once more.
> 
> Next Stage - |PHANTOM HAZARD|


	10. Denouement - All the World's a Stage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being that there was confusion about what happened during the ending, I decided to add a little addendum, in order to clear up what exactly happened without revealing all of my future plans (and trust me, there are a lot!). However, it's far more important for you to enjoy the story, which dubiety can often addle. 
> 
> I would like to point out that I consider Chapter 7 to be the end of the story, with the Epilogue and Re being far-flung previews of things to come eventually that tie into this story in their own way. Since that might have caused a lot of bewilderment, though, I apologize. My goal was to intrigue, not befuddle, and I hope to achieve just that with this optional denouement!

"So, what do you think?"

The man sitting next to me accepts the offering from the short girl. Taking the silver-rimmed glasses into his hands, he dons them over unnatural pupils, and I notice their frame matches the peculiar color of his slicked-back hair.

How do I perceive this? I cannot say. I have no eyes to see him with.

How can I answer him that there are so many things I still cannot understand? Some concepts triggered some sort of recognition. Londo Bell. Kamen Rider. Zeon. X-Wing. Valkyrie. Yet, I do not know what these things are. It feels like I did, once upon a time...

I want to ask 'what just happened' but I don't have a mouth to speak with, either.

It's as if my unsaid question reached him. "Existence is a fickle thing," he says. "Human history could have taken oh so many different paths due to the smallest of factors. Are you familiar with the theory concerning the butterfly effect?"

I would've nodded, but I don't have a head.

I'm aware of the generalities of the concept. The most insignificant of actions or events could be the root of the most drastic of changes, or so the story goes.

"Tell me, Observer," he starts. Is he referring to me? "What is the final frontier?"  
  
I don't understand the question.

"Our people are pioneers. To the land, to the sea, to the stars, and...to causality itself."

I'm just growing more confused. As if sensing my bafflement, he takes on the demeanor of a patient, kind teacher.

"You've only gleaned snippets of a possibility. I'm aware it's very different from the 'possibility' you come from. After all, the world you know doesn't have legendary soldiers attempting to build their own utopia, or bipedal, nuclear-equipped battle tanks."

That's true. From where I come from, such things would be considered impractical at best, insane at worst.

"You'd assume that the world you know is the only one that can be," he continues. "However, that isn't so. With an infinite number of possibilities, there has to be an infinite number of outcomes."

That makes sense. It reminds me of a thought experiment. You have typewriter that doesn't run out of ink or paper, and a monkey's hammering on the keys. If the monkey had an infinite amount of time and had no physiological necessities, it'd eventually type out any given work of literature by sheer chance; for instance, Shakespeare's Hamlet.

Of course, problems arise with the 'infinite' supposition, but it's an interesting concept nonetheless. The probability of such a thing happening might be infinitesimal, but it's not zero.

Yet, if there were to be an infinite number of retries...

"Precisely," he grins approvingly. "Whatever unlikely, fantastic scenario you're thinking of right now, it most certainly exists somewhere in another history."

It's a bit hard to wrap my metaphorical head around this.

"Naturally. Where I want to go with this is simple, though. We spoke of an endless number of situations that may lead to limitless epochs. There was sea travel, then the automobile. The airplane, and then we reached outer space. Then, next..."

...People learned how to travel between these 'possibilities' you speak of.

"Very good."

I still cannot grasp what it has to do with Venom Snake and his Diamond Dogs, or what happened with Eli, Meijin or whatever he wants to call himself.

"We could not change their past, but we could show them an image of another, similar world. Perhaps a good analogy would be between a computer and a virtual machine. They share the same characteristics, and fulfill the same functions, but the latter cannot exist without the former as its base."

So...I reject your reality, and substitute my own?

"Not so. An 'instance' could be created, but it simply wasn't the reality its inhabitants belonged to. A paradise of our own making, if you'd like to call it that."

For what purpose?

His expression is both gentle and gloom. "A little push. We wanted that man, that victim, to muster the strength he needed to rebel against what's to come. We wanted him to plant the seeds for those that will come after, who will in turn do the same. Personally, I also desired to give that man a chance to live the life he never could, even if just for a moment. Paz here feels the same way."

I'd forgotten about the woman. Paz Ortega Andrade is recognizable enough, standing besides the man but not having uttered a single thing. I suppose it wouldn't be a bad idea to ask what her role in all of this was.

"An overseer," Paz says. "It was possible for me because master shared a bit of his power with me."

Are you referring to this man? ...Come to think of it, I haven't asked for a name.

"People call me 'The Sorrow'. You and I, we're quite similar. Let's not dwell on those details now, though."

I have enough questions as is without your cryptic statements, Mr. The Sorrow.

"I suppose you do," he chuckles lightly, hands behind his back. "I will allow you a few more questions before sending you on your way."

Sending me on m-no, wait. I don't want that to count as a question. Tell me, what happened to Venom Snake?

"He set out on a journey with the second coming of the Diamond Dogs. In the process, he forged a new legend, one that may exceed that of Big Boss himself."

Sounds like a tall order.

"Life can be full of surprises, as well as unlikely developments."

Then what happened with Eli?

"He died in Shadow Moses, and came back to life fifteen years later."

How is that possible?

He shakes his head. "I don't know, either. There are histories in which people can, indeed, be resurrected, but not in ours. I'm hoping you'll find out. But it's what it is."

So the events I've witnessed...

"As has been stated, for people who are no longer chained to the mortal coil, time has little meaning. Or rather, you could say we're simply no longer prisoners of it. Our little 'Heaven' did not operate on a linear perception of time."

So I don't have the full picture yet. There's still a lot of holes to fill.

"You've only seen fragments, yes. I was hoping you'd piece it all together."

Why?

"...Time's up. Maybe next time, I'll answer that."

Oh, come on! At least tell me where we are?

"A place between dream and reality, mind and matter."

Is that your idea of a joke?

"Something like that, yes. Now ask yourself why you drew that conclusion."

I've heard those words before. Where?

"That's something you'll have to discover by yourself," he raises a glass filled with a sloshing caramel liquid.

Hold on, you just completely deflected my question!

"Farewell, my fellow Disaster. May the answers you find change everything."

Wait, Disaster? W-

"If the world is a stage, my friend, you are the audience! Now go! Bear witness to it all!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
